


Stroke of luck

by percywinchester27



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, Dean Winchester Fluff, Dean being awesome, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I have taken the goddamned canon and woven it any which way that I see fit, Slow Burn, this is the life Dean Winchester deserves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29202426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/percywinchester27/pseuds/percywinchester27
Summary: Dark highway, middle of the night, a bad boy driving an Impala and a Damsel in distress. Too cliché? Think again.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & You, Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 140
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I loved each minute of writing this story. Hopefully, you will, too! The flashbacks are in italics.

It had been one of the crappier days of Dean’s life, and that was saying something. He should’ve listened to Sam and let him tag along. But no, he had to go ahead do it all alone. Stupid vampire nest took more time that he had expected it to. It was so cliché by this point, that Dean should’ve damn well seen it coming. There is always that one sucker hiding in the corner every time he thought the hunt was over. Every damn time. But this time around, there had been no Sam to sever the head off. It had been an utter stroke of luck that Dean had sensed the vamp behind him, or else he’d probably be lying dead on the warehouse floor right now. Hunts barely rattled him anymore, but this one had, because as easy as it had appeared, this hunt had held the very potential of ending his life. Life that had way too many regrets than he was willing to die with.

He had been so preoccupied with his thoughts, that the sudden flare of flashlight aimed at the windshield took him by surprise.

“What the…” Dean slammed the brakes as hard as he could. He took a deep breath with every intention of yelling at the owner of the light, but the moment he threw his head out of the window, the air rushed out of him. A young girl, no more than fifteen or sixteen years of age was crouched on the ground. She had long dirty blonde hair and a slim athletic body.

“Hey, kid?” Dean called. It was past 11, and the highway cut smack through the middle of wilderness. The place was way too isolated for anyone to be by themselves, let alone a kid.

“Just a moment!” Came the soft but steady voice.

“What’re you doing here, Shorty?" 

"My car broke,” she called out from beneath the flurry of hair. “And don’t call me that.”

“Why’re you crouching at the side of the road?” He asked, finally opening the door and stepping out of the car, approaching the girl warily.

“Well,” she said, finally looking up, her face illuminated by the flashlight in her hand. “You could be a frigging serial killer for all I know. Had to tie my shoelaces so I could make a run for it. You know, should that be the case.”

Dean stared, scoffing a little. The kid was something else. He would have laughed, but the moment he looked into her eyes, every thought of laughing flew out of the window. The girl had the most stunning green eyes.

“So… Do I like need to run?” She raised her eyebrows.

“What? No!” Dean stepped back a little. “What in the name of hell are you doing here?”

“I told you, my car got canned half a mile that way,” she pointed in the other side direction. “And the signal on my phone is crappy, so I was looking for a ride.”

“Yeah, I got that.” Dean rolled his eyes, “I meant, why were you driving through this road, at this time?”

“Well…” She shuffled from one foot to another, “I was driving to the town on the other side to fetch a membership of their library.”

“At _this_ time?” Dean was skeptic.

“Yeah, I ran out of books to read in the library of my town. Bite me,” She crossed her arms below her chest.

“Nerd!” Dean muttered under his breath.

“What did you say?” She asked, stepping forward, all defensive in his face.

“Nothing,” Dean put his hands up. Living with Sam for all those years had taught him better than to go after nerds looking for books. “It’s pretty dangerous out here.”

“I can take care of myself.” The way she said it, she looked like she meant it. “So are you gonna help me or not?”

“Yeah,” said Dean, “Hop in!”

She picked up her duffel off the side of the road, and finally made her way to the car.

“C'mon in!” Dean turned to find that she had stopped in her tracks.

“That’s your ride?” She asked in disbelief. “Sweeeeeet!”

“I know, right?” Dean smirked. “She’s my _Baby._ ”

“Where’d you even get this?” Her voice rose a couple octaves, all energized as she placed a hand on the car, almost caressing the hood. “It’s a 67’ Chevy Impala, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Dean said proudly, getting into the driver’s side. He eyed the girl again. She was dressed in baggy blue T-shirt which read- _“Functions only after 4 cups of coffee.”_ As she got into the car, she pulled her hair into a messy bun at the top of her head, before gazing at the insides of the car longingly. Dean hated that his thoughts immediately jumped to Y/N. The one that got away, as people would say… or rather the one he was too stupid to let go. The only one that mattered.

“What?” The girl next to him asked. “Start the thing already!”

Dean said nothing. Instead he put the car into motion and the Impala cruised into the highway.

“Wicked!” The girl whistled.

Dean chuckled. “You know cars?”

“A bit here and there,” she shrugged.

“Dad’s into the business?”

“No one is,” she retorted slightly annoyed. “My mom taught me.”

There it was again. That attitude. Why did his thoughts jump back to Y/N again?

“What? Why’re you smiling?" 

Was he?

"Nothing,” Dean shook his head. “You remind me of someone, that’s all.”

“Really? Who?” She asked, ducking into her duffel and pulling out a book.

“Someone I used to know,” Dean sighed, before changing the subject. “You never told me your name.”

“It’s Sam.”

“No way!”

“What’s wrong with Sam?” She looked up at him with a furrowed brow.

“Nothing,” Dean chuckled. Maybe someone up there was purposely producing nerd Sams or something. “Is it like short for Samantha?”

“Actually no, it’s just Sam.” She turned back to the book, flipping through the pages. It was dark. Dean wondered how the kid was seeing through it anyway. “Turn on the music, will you?” She ordered, without looking up.

Normally Dean wouldn’t have anyone order him around. That too in his own car, let alone by a little girl. But something about her unapologetic and carefree attitude impressed him. He’d be lying if said he wasn’t exactly like that at her age. So Dean turned the music up, picking out a random channel hoping for something good, and wondering whether or not he was going to have to duke it out with her over Justin Bieber.

The speakers crackled, and the car was filled with the beats of _Back in Black._

“Oh, thank God,” he muttered, only to realise that Sam had repeated the exact same words.

“No way!” He was as excited as a teenager in a record shop. “You listen to AC/DC?”

“And Metallica and Black Sabbath!”

“Kid! Who raised you?” Dean couldn’t help but ask.

“My mother,” she rolled her eyes. “But this has nothing to do with her. Even if she hadn’t played it around so much, I would have found my way to classic Rock. The sappy stuff that they play around these days ain’t music!”

“Damn straight, it ain’t, Shorty!”

“Don’t call me that!” She fussed.

“Shorty it is. Sam’s too confusing,” Dean smirked.

“Whatever,” Sam blew the strand of hair away from her face. “What’s your name, Mister?”

Dean said nothing. He was too busy staring at her. The way she blew her hair was just like…

“I’m waiting?” She sassed.

“It’s Dean.”

“Huh,” she scoffed lightly.

“What? I don’t look like a Dean?”

“Wouldn’t know,” she shrugged. “Never met one.”

They rode in silence for a while before Sam broke the silence.

“Sooooo… You never answered my first question,” she pointed out.

“Which one?”

“Who do I remind you of?”

Dean looked at her to see that she had a carefully constructed innocent face. That and she was giving him puppy dog eyes. Did that ability come with the name?

It didn’t look like she was going to forget about it. Besides, what was the point of keeping it anyway?

“There was this girl I kinda grew up with…” Dean told her. “Her, my brother and I, we were this invincible team.”

“What happened to her?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know? She was your friend right?" 

"More than that. She was the best thing in my life. She was like a sister to my brother.”

“But not to you,” she inquired slyly.

“Hey!” Dean gave her a side-eye. “Aren’t you too young to be asking me stuff like this?”

“Well, I can drive… and if you want too much information…”

“No… Nope,” Dean raised his palm. “I’m good! You’re a kid!”

“No… I’m not!” She huffed. It looked like she wanted to sulk over it but curiosity got the better of Sam. “What happened to her?”

Dean sighed. “I was an ass. That’s what happened to her. _I_ happened to her. I said some stuff I shouldn’t have and she bailed on me.”

“That’s all? You never tried to find her?”

“I did actually. I tried. But then things kinda spiraled out of control and that was that.”

“Now that’s just plain stupid,” she said. “She should have given you another chance. I think you deserved another chance. And if she was anything like me, she’d have thought so too.”

“She did give me another chance,” Dean said, “But the timing was terrible.”

Dean was on a one way ride to hell. Y/N’s terrified face was the last thing he remembered before the hell-hounds dragged him under.

“That sucks ass,” Sam sighed.

“Sometimes I think she is better off without me. Who knows? She’s probably married with kids now,” Dean mused, more to himself than the girl besides him. She was too young, and Dean had no idea why he was pouring out his sob story- his biggest regret in life- to her.

“It’s okay, _Deano,”_ she patted him on his back. “You’ll find an awesome girl,”

“Do _not_ call me that!” Dean warned.

“Don’t call me Shorty then!”

“Won’t do!”

“Then you’re stuck with _Deano!”_

Dean had to laugh at that. “Whatever, Shorty!”

They’d reached her town and by the looks of her directions, she lived on the outskirts. It was no time before Dean was slowing the Impala in front of her lawn.

“So, this is it then,” she smiled up at him. Dean hadn’t noticed, but she had the most adorable dimples.

“Yeah,” Dean smiled back. He didn’t remember feeling so light hearted in a long time. Just something about her had him feeling nostalgic in a strange way. “Tame that smart mouth of yours,” Dean winked at her.

“Only if you learned how first,” she shot back. “Twas great meeting you. Thanks for the lift!” She said stepping out of the car, and dragging her duffel with her.

“It was great meeting you, too, Shorty,” He said softly when she was out of earshot. She waved once before sprinting across the pathway and onto the porch. Sam turned around one last time to throw him a smile before ducking inside.

Dean waited for a while, allowing himself to breathe deeply before pulling the car back on the road. He had no damn idea _whom_ he had just dropped off.


	2. Chapter 2

“Jesus, kid! Where the hell have you been?” You asked, putting the phone down the moment your girl walked in through the door. “I was about to call the Police. You scared the crap out of me!”

“I’m so sorry, mom,” she answered. “The car got canned and there was honestly no way out.”

“It’s past 12. Why didn’t you call me? I would have picked you up!” You said, the panic that was just beginning to settle down, making your voice hoarse.

“I know, but the signal went AWOL.” she told you.

You sighed. You knew your kid like the back of your hand. She wouldn’t lie about stuff like this, and she would never _ever_ put herself in reckless danger.

“Come here,” you motioned to her. She trudged forward and you enveloped her into your arms. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. You understand?”

“Yes, mom.” She all but melted in your arms. You held her like that for a few minutes. For a teenager, she was amazingly non-complaining. Somehow from a very young age she’d understood it perfectly that her safety was your prime concern. She had never toyed with it.

“How did you get here then?” You asked, finally releasing her when your heart showed signs of slowing down.

“Before you start panicking again, just listen to me okay?” She placated you. “I did everything you told me too. I checked him with salt and silver. I bent down, pretending to tie my laces, and he walked right across my salt line trying to get a better look at me. And he didn’t flinch when I furtively shoved my duffel against him. It had silver hooks.”

“You hitch-hiked?”

“Mom, just calm down, okay?” She raised her voice a little. “Remember you taught me well. I can take care of myself. And he was a nice guy.”

“Guy?” You panicked nevertheless. “Oh God, now he knows where you live. Did you tell him your name?”

“Jeez no,” she rolled her eyes. “Not my real name anyway.”

“What did you tell him?" 

"I told him my name was _Sam,”_ she giggled.

“That IS your name.”

“But not my real name,” she countered. “It’s what you call me when you’re in a good mood, or when you’re specially happy for me.”

“Vi, don’t screw with me.” You put your head in your hands. “He could’ve been dangerous.”

“He was nice, and funny. Most of all, he was only passing by.” She pried your fingers of your face, checking to look whether you truly were alright. You sighed.

“He didn’t try to do anything?” You still asked. You just couldn’t not worry.

“No! He would never!” She exclaimed, looking practically offended. Why was she being so defensive about an absolute stranger? “Besides, he had a nice car.”

“Really?” You asked. You knew a car would pique your daughter’s interest if anything.

“Yeah… It was a classic. Pretty awesome.”

“Now you see, kiddo, those are the guys that always get you in trouble. The ones with a nice car…”

“…Leather jacket, and _I-own-the-world_ attitude,” Sam completed for you.

“That’s right,” you smiled, ruffling her hair.

“Is that what dad was like?” She let out timidly. You sighed, knowing that you had to answer her. Vi was smart. Just like she understood never to put herself in unnecessary danger, she also understood never to ask about her father. You’d never had to tell her, she had just knew. But there were days when she couldn’t not ask you, and you could see the pain in her eyes. You always relented then, letting her know what she wanted to.

“Yeah, Hun, he was a bad boy. The sort of man I just couldn’t help but fall for,” you smiled. She smiled right back at you. A sad melancholy smile. Not because she would never see her father, but because she knew her mom never would.

“How about you get yourself out of that weird-ass t-shirt and into the bed?" 

"Nah, I think I’ll stay up,” she said. “I’m kinda too keyed up to do anything else right now.”

“Okay, how about we do a movie marathon?” You asked, raising your hand.

“I say hells yeah!” She high-fived you right back.

“Okay, change up and meet me in the den! I’ll have the popcorn ready,” you told her.

“Cool,” she scampered up to her room, and you sagged. You hadn’t let it show, but your legs felt like Jell-O from all the worrying. Your stomach was still in knots. Vi was all you had, she was your everything. The mere thought of losing her, after everything that you’d already lost, scared you beyond wits. She was your entire world.

After debating over what movie to watch, you settled on the “Home Alone” franchise. It’s what you did on Saturdays anyway, eat junk and gossip your way through the movies.

“Okay confession,” Vi piped in.

“Spill,” you said, cramming some more popcorn into your mouth.

“I like the third part better. The Alex kid is way more down to earth than this Kevin kid.”

“I know, right? I mean, boy, I could never handle a kid like that.”

“Admit it, you’re lucky you had me,” Vi smirked proudly. God, she looked so much like her father when she did that.

“That I am, Sparky,” you laughed, and she smiled right along. You knew she loved it when you called her that. Sam loved it when you used to him that, too.

“So how was your date with George?” She grabbed a handful of popcorn for herself.

“Disgusting,” you grimaced. “It was better than Phil, but so, so much worse than Ethan.”

“Ethan was so stand-offish!”

You smirked. “That’s exactly my point. On a scale of 1-10, it was a -4.”

“Damn,” she winced. “That sounds horrible.”

“It totally was!" 

"Matthew was good,” she mumbled through the mouth full of food. “He was good to me, and he really did love you, you know.”

“I know,” you agreed. “But it wouldn’t have worked out between us. He just wasn’t my type.”

“You mean he wasn’t like dad,” she said quietly. What was it with her today? Why was she so curious? But as enquiring as she was today, she was right. He was no Dean. No one could ever be Dean.

“Mom?” Her voice was soft.

“Yeah, Hon?”

“What was dad like?”

“He was the bravest man I ever knew,” you said, without batting your eye. It was true. “He was smart, and funny. Even though he was the bad boy of the town, he had a heart of gold. And he had the most beautiful eyes. Eyes that I am fortunate I get to look into every day.”

“How did he die?” You could see she was pushing her luck tonight. But there was no point in hiding, was there?

“He died trying to save someone he loved.”

“Loved? More than you?”

You laughed, taking her by surprise. “Let me correct myself- he died saving someone we both truly loved.” You didn’t really have to visualise it, because that scene never left your mind. The image of the hellhounds ripping through Dean’s chest was imprinted on the back of your eyes like it was branded there. You never did blame Dean for anything. Because if you had found Sam dead, you would have done exactly what Dean had done to bring him back. So how could you ever blame him?

“Why don’t we have a picture of him?”

“Because he was a jerk. He never let me click one.”

“Hey, don’t call my dad a jerk” She protested, trying to hide the yawn.

“Well, he was,” you smirked. “And that’s your cue to hit the sack.”

“But we just started the second movie!”

“We can continue tomorrow." 

"But I’ve got to study for school and finish up all my essays. If I never get that done, I’ll never get into Stanford!”

“You will, Hon, trust me,” you smiled, looking down upon your little nerd. “You will. C'mon now, let’s get you into bed.”

She did not protest this time, dragging her feet one at a time. You walked up with her tonight, not really wanting to let her out of your sight.

She had been right. Sure, you had taught her well, but she wasn’t cut out to be a hunter. She didn’t even know that hunters existed. All she knew was that you believed in all that’s Supernatural.

You tucked her into bed and kissed her goodnight, before switching the lights off and finding your way to the couch. It was half past 2, almost 3 now, but sleep eluded you. Instead, you pulled the rug off the couch and wrapped it around yourself, too lazy to make it to your room, and let the memory from years ago crash down on you.

_You were eight, and it was the hottest summer of your existence. Hottest and the worst. You couldn’t believe your dad had left you out here with someone who was for all practical purposes a complete stranger to you. He had pulled you aside and told you to stick by the tall thin man, whose name was Pastor Jim. The Pastor didn’t really seem like an overbearing man. On the contrary, he had a kind smile. But you didn’t want to stay away from your dad. He was all you had, and now he was leaving you here, in the hottest town ever._

_After dad left, you threw the worst fit, not listening to Pastor Jim, throwing around his books, and refusing to eat your meal, before finally running out and taking refuge on the backyard steps. By the time the sun set, you were hungry and too stubborn to accept it. You weren’t going to go in, admit defeat, and ask for supper. So you sat alone on the back porch, clutching your stomach and hoping that the hunger would go away on it’s own. At least, the air was slightly cooler now._

_“Hey!” You heard a soft voice call from behind you._

_You turned back to see a boy of around your age, smiling down at you. He had silky brown hair and funny eyes. Too many colors. Before you could respond, he asked, “You’re Y/N, right?”_

_“Who are you?” You asked, hesitant to volunteer information first._

_“I’m Sam,” he smiled, coming to sit beside you. “Pastor Jim told me I’d find you here.”_

_“Are you his son or something?”_

_“No! We’ve come to stay here just like you.”_

_"We?"_

_"Yeah, my brother Dean and me.”_

_“Your Daddy leave you, too?”_

_Sam frowned. “I guess so.”_

_You threw your hands up, all the anger from earlier, seeping into your voice. “Why do they do this to us? Leave us here. I miss him,” you told Sam. “What if something happens to me while he’s gone?”_

_“Nothing will happen to us,” Sam told you confidently._

_“How can you be so sure?”_

_“Dean won’t let anything happen to us.”_

_“Really?”_

_“Yeah.” There was distinct note of pride in his voice. “So, friends?” He asked extending a hand._

_You didn’t trust people easily, but something about his warm smile made you feel at home the moment his eyes met yours. “Friends,” you shook his hand, smiling a little._

_“Sam!” Came another voice from behind. It was slightly deeper, and authoritative. “Where the hell did you disappear?”_

_The boy who came around was around 12 years of age or so. At first he didn’t really pay attention to you, giving his brother a quick once over. “I was looking for you.”_

_“I came to find Y/N,” Sam told him. “Pastor Jim said we had to invite her for dinner. C'mon, Y/N,” he gestured._

_“You go,” you mumbled, “I’m not coming.” You put your head on your knees._

_You didn’t see Dean gesturing Sam to leave you alone, didn’t see Sam starting to wordlessly protest, but sigh and get up anyway after the look Dean gave him. All you felt was Sam leave your side and Dean take his place next to you._

_“Sam’s right you know,” said Dean._

_“About what?” You asked lifting your neck, and looking into those jade eyes._

_“I won’t let anything happen to the two of you,” he said simply. Something in his voice made you believe him._

_“But what about my dad?” You whispered, voicing your true concern for the first time. “What if something happens to_ him?” _You didn’t care if anything happened to you, not really. But if something happened to your dad, you’d be left with nothing, no one._

_“Here,” he handed you something. It was a small flower. A very beautiful violet._

_“What’s this for?” You asked._

_“No reason,” he shrugged, “I thought you might like it.” You had seen a bunch of wild violets growing around the corner of the house, it was obvious that he had picked one from there, but gesture made your throat tight._

_You took the violet, rolling the stem between your fingers and intently staring at the flower, trying to control the tears that were threatening to spill over._

_“Your dad is going to be fine, Y/N,” he said, “He knows what he is doing and he’s saving a lot of people while doing it. C'mon now, get inside and join us for dinner.”_

_“Thanks, Dean,” you said, choosing to believe him again. He got up and extended his hands towards you which you hesitantly accepted as he helped you up. He gave you a small smile before walking towards the front, and you followed him inside, the violet still clutched in your hand._

You made your way back to Vi’s room, only to find her snoring gently against the pillow. She was the light of your life, there was no contesting that fact. You walked up to her and adjusted her quilt.

“Good night, Violet Dean Y/L/N,” you whispered, before kissing her brow and quietly slipping out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

“Dude, where the _hell_ were you?” Sam questioned first thing, when Dean opened the bunker door. It was past 2 in the morning. “I’ve been waiting up for you.”

“Sorry, Mommy,” Dean said sarcastically, discarding his bag on the table.

“No, seriously,” Sam insisted. “You’ve been out of touch for almost 2 days now. Last I knew you bolted on me for a Vamp hunt. No text, no call, no nothing.”

“The phone got smashed,” Dean replied. “I figured I’d be back soon enough. If I’d had any idea you were gonna pounce on me tiger mommy style, I’d have called.” Sam didn’t need to know how close Dean had gotten to his death, or exactly how relieved he was to be able to see Sam again.

Sam sighed, shaking his head at his brother’s antics, but relaxing nonetheless. Before he could say anything, Dean enveloped him in a bear hug. As much as it surprised Sam, he returned the hug just as tightly. He’d be lying if he said that Dean’s absence hadn’t been eating him out. Sam had been about ready to go looking for Dean when he’d turned up.

“What’s up?” Sam asked when Dean broke free.

“Nothing,” Dean shrugged. However, Sam saw a small smile playing on his lips, right before he turned on his heels and walked to his room.

Dean laid on his bed for a long time looking up at the ceiling. He was exhausted, bone-crushingly tired, but sleep wouldn’t come. He couldn’t get that sassy kid out of his head. This wasn’t the first time he’d discovered that his life always hung by a thread, but it had rankled him all the same. The girl had only made him realize what he was truly missing in his life. He was scared to admit it to himself, but if he’d ever wanted his own kid, it would be someone like her. If that had been the only thing, Dean would’ve just shrugged it off, rolled over and managed to find some sleep. But the real reason he couldn’t stop thinking about _Sam_ was because she reminded him so much of Y/N. That sass, the way she laughed was so much like the only woman he had truly loved.

_“Y/N?” He called, making his way towards the crouched figure sitting on Pastor Jim’s back porch. She was wearing a green blouse today, a jacket thrown over her shoulder in an attempt to hide her face. “Y/N?” He called out again. There was no reply still._

_Dean couldn’t help but remember the day when he had first seen her 4 years ago. She had been sitting in the exact same spot as today, resting her head on her knees the same way. He bent down and picked one of the violets that always grew around the corner of Pastor Jim’s house, before making his way to her and perching lightly next to her._

_She didn’t show any signs of acknowledging his presence._

_“What’s wrong, Y/N/N?” He asked her softly. He knew she wouldn’t open up unless she wanted to, but he also knew that he could get her to open up, if he wanted to._

_“I’m tired of moving around,” came her muffled noise from beneath the flurry of hair. “I was just starting to make friends there! And then I had to move all over again to this new town where I don’t know anyone.”_

_Dean sighed. He’d been having the exact same conversation with Sam so many times lately, that the words came out without him having to think them through. “It’s because your dad is a hero. He’s saving people out there. And come on, this isn’t too bad, is it? It’s fun, going new places, not having to clean up behind you.”_

_It was a lie. Nothing about this was fun. Not the sense of homelessness, not the life on the road, and neither the chilling fear of not getting to see your dad again. So Dean only shook his head knowingly at the next words that came out of her mouth._

_“Who are you kidding, Dean?” She looked up then. “What’s nice about crappy motel rooms and stale burgers? You, at least, have Sam. But me? I’m all alone. I have no one. I got lost in that new town on my way back from school yesterday, and I had no one to go to because dad wasn’t there. I was so scared!” Her voice had lowered to a panicked whisper._

_“You have me!” The words slid out thoughtlessly, but they were true. He felt as responsible for Y/N as he felt for Sam. “I mean, you have us. We’re not going anywhere. You have my number, give me a call if anything like that happens again and we’ll be there.”_

_“What about John?” She sniffled, her eyes meeting his._

_“What about him?”_

_“You can’t drive a car yet."_

_"Legally,” he shrugged._

_“John will never lend you the Impala,” you stated the obvious._

_“Not yet,” he smirked. “But I know how to steal a car.”_

_“And that’s illegal.”_

_“When has that stopped a Winchester?” He wiggled his eyebrows, making her giggled._

_Dean exhaled quietly. She needed to be happy. More than that, she deserved to be happy._

_“Here,” he said, handing her the violet. It was stupid, really. She knew where that flower came from and he knew that she knew it hadn’t cost him a dime. But she always took it with this sweet little smile, like the violet meant so much to her. Over the years, it had become a tradition of sorts. He would always find her a violet, and she would always treat it like it was the most precious thing in the world. He had no idea what she did with all those flowers though._

_“Dean?”_

_“Yeah?"_

_"Remember the day we first met?”_

_“Course,” he smiled. It was funny how he had been thinking about that very day a while ago. “I promised I would never let anything happen to you.”_

_“I know,” she said, voice quieter still. “And I trust you.” She paused for a second. “But I want you to make another promise.”_

_“I promise.” He said without batting an eye._

_“You haven’t even heard it yet.” She smiled a little._

_“Whatever it is, princess, it’s yours,” he smiled back reassuringly._

_“Okay then. Promise me, you will always find me. The next time I get lost, whether or not I make that call, whether or not John lends you that Impala, you WILL find me. Please, I need to know that. I need to know that I’m not alone, that whatever happens, you will find a way to find me.”_

_Dean was taken aback, not because of the words she had uttered, but because of the emotion underneath them. The trust there rattled him. “I-I promise, Y/N/N.” He said. “I’ll always come find you, even if you don’t wanna be found.”_

_“Really?” She asked, her Y/E/C eyes round.  
_

_“Yep.”  
_

_Then she did something even more unexpected that the impulsive promise. She leaned against his side, her head resting against his shoulder, and let out a contented sigh. Together they watched the sun go down, and still stayed the same way till the stars twinkled brightly in the sky, counting the stars in their favorite constellations._

Dean woke up late the next day, so he wasn’t surprised to find Sam in the kitchen eating his lunch, laptop propped open on the table in front of him.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Sam greeted him without taking his eyes off the screen.

Dean walked up to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of milk and grabbed the cornflakes from the top shelf before taking a seat opposite to Sam, who was so immersed in whatever he was reading that his hand had stopped midway to his mouth with a piece of celery dangling by the side of the fork.

“Eat the thing up first,” Dean commented before pouring himself some breakfast.

“I think I found a case,” Sam said, shoving his food away. “It’s close by, I could make a check and be back before nightfall.”

“No, no,” Dean objected. It was gonna sound weird, but he wasn’t going to let Sam go alone after his last hunt, specially not after his late night guilt trip down the memory lane. “You’re not going solo, I’m coming with you.”

“You just got back, Dean. You look burned." 

"What’s the case?” Dean asked, side stepping Sam’s observation.

Sam sighed, but answered nevertheless, “It’s a string of deaths two towns over. Four victims so far with no connection between them, except the witnesses swear up and down that she saw purple light flashing out of their eyes before they crumpled to the ground. The medical reports say, and I quote- The hearts were liquefied.”

“That’s weird.”

“I’d say,” Sam scoffed. “The last one happened today morning at the local high school. 9th Grade student Aaron Fletcher.”

“So what’re we waiting for?” Dean asked, quickly getting up and heading to his room, before Sam could even suggest that he stay back.

The high school was a collection of double story buildings with sloping roofs and brick clad walls. It was sparsely spread, connected by narrow paved pathways. The place gave a weird sort of vibe.

“This is the reason I dropped out,” Dean said, gesturing towards the buildings. “The place screams haunted.” Sam rolled his eyes

They quickly found out that the only witness to the scene was a girl taking the same class. Of course the police weren’t buying a word of her ‘purple eyes’ story, so she had been detained for questioning since the morning. The girl wasn’t budging from her story, and the police weren’t either, claiming that she was hostile and uncooperative. The woman at the desk eyed them and the fake FBI batches suspiciously before letting them in. They decided to split; Sam would go check out the scene of incidence, while Dean would talk to the witness.

By the time Dean made his way to the room where the girl was, a sense of foreboding settled over him. He sucked at handling kids, let alone teenage girls who had just witnessed a supernatural murder. It was Sam’s job to make those eyes, and have people feel at home, not his. He should’ve let Sam do the talking.

Dean took a deep breath before opening the door and stepping inside the room. The place was mostly empty, except for 2 desks placed right in the middle. A young girl was sitting in front of one, with her head resting over her arms on the table in front. Her long dirty blonde hair cascading along her side. Maybe it was because Dean had been thinking about her, or maybe it was the fact that he just recognized the color too well, but he couldn’t help the word that came out of his mouth-

“Sam?”

Her head snapped up, and a pair of alert green eyes met he own. They were puffy and red.

“Dean?” He couldn’t be sure if the modulation in her voice was relief or suspicion. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m with the FBI,” he said, slowly walking over to her. Not in a million possibilities had he imagined that she would be the witness.

“You’re a Fed?” She raised her eyebrows. Even tensed and frustrated, that girl had a mouth on her.

“It says so on the badge,” Dean smirked, taking a seat next to her on the other bench.

“I guess you’re here to laugh at my story, too,” she snorted bitterly.

“Actually, I’m here to believe it,” Dean told her.

“No one did, why would you?” She looked away.

“Because you trusted me yesterday, and I’m going to do the same,” Dean said simply. He didn’t know why it was so easy to talk to her. She looked like a girl who had trouble with the authorities, and that was something Dean understood all too well.

Sam gave him a hard look, before launching into a blabber. “I was walking behind Aaron, and he was talking to Lindsay about the trig test. She had to go to the bathroom… and the figure came and she just… and all the purple light… He die-d…” Her voice broke on the last word.

“Whoa, Shorty, calm down,” Dean placated her. “Here,” he said, handing her the glass of water that was already there, “Drink this, take a deep breath, and start from the start.”

She did as he told her, gulping the water quickly, and the breathing heavily for a while before starting again. “Aaron used to be in my trig class, and after the first class ended we were walking towards the Lit building. He and his girlfriend Lindsay were walking ahead and they turned towards the washroom, where I was headed. Lindsay went in, and Aaron was waiting outside when this figure appeared almost out of nowhere.”

“Figure?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” she said, desperate, like she was afraid Dean would stop believing her any moment now. “It was cloaked, so I don’t know if it was a man or a woman. And that person touched Aaron… Like not exactly touched him, just brushed against him, pulled him a little closer, and then he was shaking like he was having a seizure of something. There was this bright purple light… It seemed to come from inside of him. It glowed through his eyes and fingertips for a while, and then he was dead.”

“Just like that? What about that figure?”

“It disappeared the way it had come, ran away real fast.” she cried, breaking down for the first time. “It’s all my fault.”

“No, it isn’t,” Dean disagreed gently.

“Yes, it is,” she wailed, “If only I had gone after that thing instead of bending down and checking on Aaron. But I couldn’t have just left him there, what if he had been alive?”

“Listen to me, you did the right thing. It doesn’t seem like you would have been a match for that thing anyway.”

“So you believe me?” She asked, her startling jade eyes round with surprise.“

"Of course, I do,” Dean patted her on the back. “I told you I would.”

“Are you like the X-files?” Sam narrowed her eyes.

“Something like that, yeah,” Dean winked. “Just much cooler.” That made her snort.

Then she hesitated for a second before whispering, “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s something I didn’t tell the police. I know they wouldn't’ve believed me.”

“And what’s that?”

“That hooded figure slipped something in Aaron’s bag, a small pouch of sorts.”

_Frigging witches_

Sam continued before he could get a word out- “I think it was a hex bag. I think the thing that killed Aaron is a witch.” She got it out in one breath, as if she was pushing her luck by telling him that. The words spilled themselves out before she could give herself a chance to change her mind.

Dean’s eyes widened in shock. He stared at her for a moment. How did she even know about hex bags and witches?

Sam misunderstood his silence and kicked the foot of the desk in frustration. “I shouldn’t have told you. I knew you wouldn’t believe.”

It took another second for Dean to restart. “No… No, Sam, I believe you,” Dean told her. He knew from the conviction in her voice that she wasn’t throwing bogus assumptions in the air. She knew what she was talking about. “I think so, too. We might be dealing with a witch here.”

“You believe me?” She repeated her words from earlier, only her tone was dubious now.

“I do,” Dean said firmly. “If it’s hex bags, it’s definitely witches. How do you know about this stuff? Hunter’s kid?” It didn’t seem likely, though. He’d seen her house yesterday. The lawn was taken care of and the place looked like it belonged to someone who was settled there. Hunters don’t live a life like that.

“My mom’s superstitious. She told me stuff like this exists, you know monsters and witches and Vampires,” She told him, oddly calm now, like she trusted him to not think that she was crazy. “What’s a hunter?”

Dean figured it was someone who knew their way around the territory who raised her. Sam was smart, so she would have definitely remembered the traits of things that go bump in the night once someone told her.

“Nothing,” Dean dismissed her quickly. “Your mom did a damn good job raising a kickass like you.”

Sam smiled, and it made Dean feel so much better. Better than he should have felt about making a stranger smile.

“Yeah my mom’s awesome,” she said proudly. “I just wanna go home to her, but these idiots won’t let me even make a call to my mom. They think I’m high and making stuff up. They made me pee in a cup.” She said distastefully. Her outrage seemed to strike a chord within Dean. This was why he hated authorities; they didn’t know shit and still hounded people who actually knew.“

"Wanna get out?” He smirked.

“Hells yeah!” She jumped out of the seat with the speed of a lightning bolt, making Dean chuckle.

“C'mon, Shorty,” Dean ushered her, feeling like a teen again, “We’re gonna break you out.”

Getting her out of the classroom and the corridor was easy enough, but once they reached the foyer, one of the officers from the PD interrupted him. Dean made a show out of how it was unauthorized to detain a minor without parental permission and whisked her away before the guy could get two words out. Once they were out of his ear shot, both Sam and Dean made a run for it, and didn’t stop till they were out of the campus, laughing so hard that their stomachs hurt.

“You. Are. Awesome!” Sam declared once they finally reached the parking lot.

“I’ve been told,” Dean said, still trying to get over the laughter. “Hurry up, kiddo. Get home before they catch you.”

“Thank you so much,” she said sincerely. “You’re the best! I owe you one, Deano.” She looked like she wanted to say something more as she stepped ahead, her arms slightly outstretched. However, after a quiet moment, she turned on her heel and ran out, disappearing around the corner; but not before she had thrown Dean another grateful grin full of mischief.

It made Dean’s day, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why.


	4. Chapter 4

It would have been the slowest day of your life had it not been for the pit in your stomach that accompanied a nagging sensation that something was wrong. All you wanted to do was shut the shop and run back, but there was a wedding order for the evening, and thanks to that, there were a shit ton of flowers in the back yard. Jessie, your assistant, had mysteriously disappeared on you, too.

You paced up and down along the length of the shop, the fragrance of the flowers doing nothing to calm you down today. In a moment of retrospect you couldn’t help but wonder what your dad would have said if he had lived to see the daughter he raised as a hunter, work a vanilla job like a florist. Maybe he wouldn’t have minded, maybe he would have. You could never really be sure with him. You’d never really known what went on in his head.

But all the pacing and thinking wasn’t helping the pit. You knew something was seriously amiss. It had happened to you before. Your gut instinct never failed you.

The clanking of the bell, as the door opened, pulled you back from your worrying. You automatically adjusted your features into a pleasant and detached smile you saved for your customers. Today, it faltered. Thankfully, you were in luck because this particular customer was a regular.

“Hello, Mrs. Henley,” you greeted her.

“Hello, Darling,” she smiled back genially.

“The usual?” You asked, immediately setting to work when she nodded. Her order had been the same everyday for the last 6 years- a dozen yellow daisies, cut to the same length with no embellishments whatsoever. You wondered what she needed them for.

“How’s Violet doing?” She asked conversationally. “I swear that girl just devours all those books. Not a day goes by when I don’t see her going past the house and into the library, always with a new book in hand. She’ll just wave and say ‘what’s up Mrs. Henley?’ Not a day goes by, Y/N, not a day. My morning doesn’t start without seeing her.”

“I’m glad she makes you happy, Mrs. Henley,” you smiled back while wrapping her flowers.

“One bright ray of sunshine that one, I tell you. You did a great job with that kid,” she told you.

“I did the best I knew. And I didn’t really know much.”

“It’s what motherhood does to you. It makes you grow up too soon. I bet her father would regret runnin’ away from you now, if he ever knew what a gem stone his daughter is,” she gave you an exaggerated pat on the back.

“Yeah, if only he ever knew.” You met her eyes as you tied a knot around the flowers. Mrs. Henley was a nice old lady, and you knew she meant well, but it hurt you to not say something in Dean’s defense. She was a customer though, and you had long resorted to letting the rumors about you flourish. The more outrageous they became, the less people asked you about them.

“There you go,” you handed her the flowers.

“Thank you, Darlin’,” she drawled pleasantly. “I like both of you girls. I know how much you love your lil’ one… I’m actually surprised to see you here. I thought you’d be with Violet.”

“Vi’s in school. Why would I be with her?” You asked, the pit in your stomach making its presence known again.

“Why, did you not hear?” She leaned in animatedly, but her voice was sad. “The Fletcher’s kid was found dead at the school today. They let all kids go home early, that’s how I know. Didn’t she call you?”

“No, she didn’t. That is _terrible_ news. What happened?”

“Don’t really know yet, Hun.”

“I’m gonna head home,” you muttered, grabbing your bag and heading out of the counter, Jessie would have to manage the delivery. “Thank you, Mrs. Henley, for letting me know.”

As you drove, you tried to calm yourself down from the irrational anxiety. If something had been wrong with Vi, she would’ve definitely called you from school. So she must be alright. But then why hadn’t she called when she had reached home? Maybe because she knew about the wedding order, and didn’t want to worry you. That would be your kid… Worry, worry and worry for you. That must be it, you placated yourself.

You jumped out of the car the moment it screeched to an halt in your driveway.

“Vi?” you called out. No reply. “Violet?” There was some scuffling from upstairs.

“Sam?” you tried again, knowing how much your daughter loved it when you called her that.

“Y-Yeah,” your girl answered. Her voice sounded hoarse.

You pushed the door to her room and found her huddled in her bed, wrapped in a thick blanket. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were red and cheeks were blotchy.

“Hey,” you whispered softly, climbing into the bed next to her, and pulling her in your arms. “What happened, kiddo?”

“Aaron,” she sighed heavily.

“Wanna talk about it?" 

"Not really.” She turned her head and buried it in your lap.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” you said, running your fingers through her soft blonde hair soothingly. “I didn’t know you were such good friends with him.”

“I wasn’t,” she muttered. “But he died right in front of me, and then the police kept me locked up like I was the one who killed him or something. They didn’t believe a word I said either.”

“Wait a second, back up here!” you pulled her up, making her face you. She looked weary. “You saw it all?”

“I don’t wanna talk." 

"Nope! You can’t drop that bomb and not talk. How dare those dicks not believe you? And you said they kept you locked up? At the PD? I’m gonna go down there and kick some ass.”

She shook her head. “Not in the PD, at the school itself. In the detention room.”

They were so gonna have it from you. You hated the police. You’d had fair share of trouble with them in your hunting days. They were ignorant jerks for most parts, but detaining a kid was below their already rock-bottom low standards. “You have to tell me what happened there Vi." You squared your shoulders.

She dropped hers, resigned. 

Vi told you what had happened. The purple light, the cloaked figure and the hex bag. You were proud of how composed she sounded. She knew exactly what had happened, and deduced the most accurate conclusion- witches. Obviously, the police hadn’t believed her.

"They made me pee in a cup,” she said, face pinched.

“Dicks,” you shook your head. It probably wasn’t the right way of raising your kid, but you weren’t the sort of person who behaved differently on the streets than in front of your child. Having a sixteen year old kid hear you swearing was more acceptable in your books than have them see that their parents live in double standards.

Right now, colorful language was least of your concern. There had been three mysterious deaths in the past couple weeks, and both the police as well as the people were being extremely shady about it. Something didn’t quite add up. If Aaron’s death was anything to go by, the town had a coven at their hands. This was not good, for SO many reasons.

“How did you get out? They wouldn’t have let you go without a parent.”

She giggled unexpectedly, then rolled over as the giggling gave way to a fit of laughter while you stared at her in confusion. It took her a few minutes to sober up enough to be able to talk.

“There was this FBI agent, he broke me out of there.”

“What? FBI?” This was just getting worse and worse with every passing second.

“Yeah,” she giggled again. “He was super fun. You should have seen the way he talked the officer out of it. It was hilarious, and-”

“What did you tell him?” you interrupted.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I mean, what did he ask you about the murder?”

“Everything, and you know what? He believed in me mom!” Her eyes lit up. “He actually agreed with me.”

_Shit! Hunter._

“Did he ask you how you knew about all of this?” _Please say no, please say no._

“Um, I might have said that we are superstitious,” she looked guilty. “Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

You sighed. She had been through one hell of trauma, and she was only a kid. She didn’t even know hunters existed.

“No, you didn’t, babe. Did he enquire more about us?”

“Nope,” she brightened a little. “Don’t worry mom, he was nice, and I told you he would be. He was the same man-”

“Okay, kiddo, listen,” you cut her chatter, getting ready to leave. “I’m heading to the morgue to check the dead bodies. If this is really a witch killing, we need to help these people, and find the witch." 

What you didn’t tell her was that you needed to help the two of you, as well. The last thing you wanted was to run into someone from _that_ circle again. It would totally uproot your life if you got yourself or your daughter mixed up with that crowd again.

"What will you do if you do find the witch?”

“Kill her.” The words simply slipped past you, and for a moment you were scared of meeting you daughter’s eyes. You can’t just randomly confess to wanting to kill things like that.

However, when you finally looked up, there was a glint of anger in her eyes. “Good,” she nodded, and for a moment, she looked exactly like her father. “But you can’t just waltz into the morgue like that.”

“Remember Ethan?" 

"The date from hell?”

“Yep that one.” You cringed on the insides even thinking about it. “He works at the morgue. Maybe I can ask for favors.”

It was Vi’s turn to cringed visibly now. “Eww!”

Yeah Eww..

“Hey mom?” she called as you started to leave. “Be careful, okay? And kick it in the ass.”

“Of course, honey,” you winked, as you closed the door behind you. Your daughter was one tough cookie. You couldn’t have been prouder.

**Dean’s POV:**

Dean couldn’t fucking keep the smile off of his face as he strolled around the campus aimlessly. Sam will find him after he was done with whatever he was doing. For the life of him, Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun. It felt like being back in his twenties. He did wild stuff like this all the time. He had lost count of the times he and Sam had done something stupid, ended up in prison, or in a clash with the authorities, and had busted out.

Even before that, when he was a teenager, it happened sometimes. Lesser then, but it happened nevertheless. He would sneak. Those were the best memories of his life.

_“Pssstttttt…” Dean hissed. No reply._

_“Pssssttttttt…” he tried again. If he got any louder, he was going to wake up everybody in the goddamned motel. He so didn’t wanna see Y/N’s dad’s face at 2 in the night._

_The window opened slowly, creaking a little. Dean thought he was dead, until Y/N’s sleepy face appeared._

_“Dee?” she asked groggily. “Is that you?”_

_“Um yeah…” Suddenly he felt extremely stupid. What was he even doing here?_

_“Come closer, I can’t hear you,” she whispered._

_Awkwardly Dean walked over to the window. “Hey can you come out for a bit?”_

_“There’s a salt line at the door that dad made. It’ll definitely get all screwed if I open a door. I can’t make one like him. He’ll know… and I think the door creaks…” she mused sleepily._

_Dean wanted to kick himself. What was he thinking turning up like that at the motel she was staying in? There was no reason why she’d want to meet him at 2 in the night. But he had to, especially today._

_“…C'mon?” Y/N hissed a little louder._

_“What?” Dean asked, paying attention to her again. He was just making a bigger fool of himself every passing minute._

_“I said give me your hand, dumbass!"_

_"Why?”_

_“I’m coming out through the window. There’s a basement or something below. The window is higher that I can jump. So, give me your hand!”_

_“You wanna come down?”_

_“Are you always this stupid? Or is today a special occasion? Of course, I’m coming down.” She rolled her eyes and Dean grinned._

_Well, it was a special occasion. He extended his hand so she could catch hold of it. He just couldn’t keep the damn grin off of his face._

_“Thank god you’re at least pretty!” she teased him, as she lowered her hand to meet his. Her eyes were shining with the laughter she couldn’t hold, and Dean could swear they were the most beautiful pair he had ever seen._

_She used the other hand to brace herself against the sill, as she hoisted one leg over the ledge. Her skin somehow shone in the bright moonlight trickling through the trees, and her soft hair fluttered as the wind swooshed against the open window. Dean couldn’t help but notice that she was dressed only in a pair of shorts and a flowy tank top._

_Soon she was sitting awkwardly on the sill, one hand resting against the frame and other holding Dean’s._

_“Now what?” she asked, trying to judge the distance. The window was over six feet high from the ground._

_“Jump!” Dean offered._

_“Are you kidding? I’ll break something.”_

_“No, you won’t. Just jump! I’ll catch you!"_

_"Shhh…” She hushed him. “ **Could you be any louder?** Alright, I’m coming.”_

_“On the count of three, then,” Dean encouraged. “Okay… One…Tw-” She jumped, falling straight into Dean’s arms, her soft chest pressed against his, as her hands clutched his shoulders in an effort to find a grip. Dean staggered a little but held on to her all the same._

_“Hey? What happened to waiting till three?”_

_“I knew you’d catch me either way,” she smiled. It was hard to be sure given the darkness surrounding them, but Dean thought he could see the tell tale signs of a shy smile._

_He set her down on her feet, but did not let her go. If anything, he pulled her a little closer. “Happy birthday, Y/N/N.”_

_He saw her eyes go blank for a fraction of second before a wide, surprised grin slowly stretched across her lips. “Holy shit! You remembered!” She was looking awed, and her eyes, her beautiful eyes were shining… glistening._

_“Of course, I did! How could I not?”_

_“Well, I forgot about it myself.”_

_“I did not.” He let go of her then, reluctantly, still keeping a firm hold on her hand. “Sammy wanted to come, too, but one of us had to stay back just in case dad returned early. He’d freak the fuck out if he found an empty motel room.” Dean was secretly glad that Sam couldn’t make it. It was a weird happiness, and seeing Y/N smile, he was starting to realise why._

_“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked, too coyly for him to fall for it._

_“If you’re expecting me to say 'of course not, honey’ and kiss you, I’ll do it, Y/N.” Dean winked._

_“You’re an idiot!” she giggled, slapping his chest, and tugging at his arm to lead him towards the back. “Let’s get out of here. You’re breaking me out, right?_

_"Yep!”_

_“Where are we going?” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice._

_“To that lake you’ve always wanted to visit.” Dean directed her towards the Impala he’d somehow managed to keep for the week. “I have a blanket and a couple burgers in there.”_

_“This is the best birthday present ever.” She was outright laughing now. Such a beautiful sound. It made Dean giddy with happiness._

_Once they were both around the edge of the motel, Dean pulled her back. “I didn’t forget, Y/N,” he said, pushing a small flower into her warm hand, relishing the softness of her palm. Then he did something he had only imagined before. Y/N hadn’t exactly said a no earlier, so he leaned forward, his heart pounding against his chest, and lightly brushed his lips against her cheek. She froze for a second, before her cheeks raised into an adorable smile, Y/N leaned into him. Emboldened by her reaction, Dean kissed her once more. This time on the corner of her mouth. “Happy birthday, Y/N,” he whispered. “A very happy seventeenth.”_

“Dean?” Sam’s voice pulled him back. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you.”

“I was… I was caught up with something.”

“Did you talk to the witness?" 

"Yeah,” Dean grinned. “I knew that kid. I found her stranded in the middle of the night yesterday. And guess what? I busted her out of there.” He jerked a thumb towards the detention room.

“You did what?” Sam’s eyes widened. “Dean, you’re not supposed to interfere. Let the police handle it.”

“She’s a kid, Sam! They were keeping her in there for actually telling the truth. In fact, she knew it was a witch,” Dean said proudly. “And guess what? Her name’s Sam, too. Pretty smart for someone named Sam, eh?” He chuckled.

 _“Sam_ you say? Her name was Sam, and she knew about witches?” Sam’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, said her mother was superstitious or something. One hell of a brave kid.”

“If it’s really a witch, I’m gonna go check out the morgue. They must have the hex bag found with the body.” Sam mused. “I called ahead suspecting that, but instead of tomorrow, I’ll just go over now.”

“Alright,” Dean agreed, flinging the keys of the Impala to his brother. “You go on. Meet me back at the motel we saw on our way in. I’ll grab us some grub.” He was still smiling as he headed past the parking lot.

Sam, however, didn’t know what to make of the situation. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, he couldn’t help but mull over what his brother had told him. Dean said that the witnesses’ name was _Sam_ , and she knew enough to know a witch had killed the boy. But Sam had talked to the officers and seen through the files. The witnesses’ name there was labeled 'Violet Y/L/N.’ Sam couldn’t get rid of the queasy feeling in his stomach as he drove off towards the morgue. Something didn’t quite add up here… Or, rather, it all added up _too_ well.


	5. Chapter 5

You didn’t drive as fast as you should have. The morgue wasn’t far off from the main town square, but you weren’t particularly looking forward to it either. Facing a guy you had no interest in going out with ever again, was a distasteful prospect. Ethan was what one would call- in a more civilized tone- a jerk. The one date with him had been all about _'I, me, and myself,’_ for him. Pretty horrible. You had ranted to Vi all night about it after you’d finally returned home. She’d been sympathetic. She had provided you with Pizza and caffeine while you yelled yourself hoarse about what an arrogant bastard he had been. You never called him again, praying that he never turned up at the shop looking for you.

Vi always maintained that you needed to find yourself someone and over the years, she’d had her favorites. You on the other hand, had never really wanted to. You’d liked a couple of guys, but it all boiled down to the same thing- they weren’t Dean. They never could be. After a couple of dates, you’d start looking for all the Dean things in them. For green eyes, and tousled blonde hair, those freckles and pink lips. They were never there, and so it would never last.

If one of them ever had a feature remotely resembling to Dean’s, you’d back off, because none of them would have his heart. No one would be that brave. No one could be. So over the years, you’d made a reputation out of yourself, the serial-dater as they called it. A lot often than not, men looked at you with that judgmental smirk, pegging you as a promiscuous woman. Having a single daughter, obviously conceived at a young age only fueled the image. It helped their case that you owned a flower shop. Nothing is more cliché than buying a bunch of expensive, deep-meaning flowers from a florist, and handing it right back to her with a cheesy pick-up line. After they went away, you just put the flowers back on the rack for sale. There was only one flower that could ever woe your heart.

Ethan had been one of those. He had been courteous enough while asking you out. Then you saw him for the person he was. The prospect of having to flirt your way past him into the morgue was downright puke inducing.

“You can do this, Y/N,” you told yourself, “for your daughter.” You had to keep both of you safe and out of this mess. Parking your car, you jerked your chin up, and walked into the facility. At the counter, you asked for the manager. Ethan wasn’t a coroner, or even the mortician, he had a managerial job there, so he had to be present most days.

“Y/N!” Ethan exclaimed, pulling you into a hug even before you could turn around. “You just couldn’t stay away from me now, could you?” he smirked. You groaned internally. _What a douche!_

He wasn’t bad looking, but he his obvious arrogance was a big turn off. You pulled back, giving him a big fake grin. “I was just driving by. Thought I’d drop in and see how you’re doing.”

“Aw, come on, Y/N, you don’t have to be so coy. I know why you’re really here.” You wanted to smack all smugness out of his face, but you balled your fists and continued to smile.

“Actually, I wasn’t really feeling okay today. I heard about Aaron Fletcher and I just-”

“Didn’t want to be alone?” he prompted.

“Aaah… yeah. That’s what.” You rolled with the tide.

“Well, baby, I got you,” he said, with an overconfident, self-assured air. “About half an hour to go before my shift ends, then we can get out of here. I can’t really ignore the work for you now, can I?”

“Of course not,” you gave him another cheesy smile. “I was thinking maybe I could see the boy, you know.”

“Why?” His face expressionless. For a second you were scared whether he was suspicious.

“I’m just so sorry for them all, especially Aaron, he was only a kid after all. I want to pay my last respects.” It was true for most parts. As a mother, your heart reached for the boy’s parents. God knew you’d lose all will to live if something ever happened to Vi.

“Oh yeah… Come, I’ll take you,” he nodded importantly, then he placed a hand on your lower back and guided you towards the morgue. “I have to warn you, babe, it’s pretty gruesome inside. I don’t think someone as delicate as you can handle it. I’ll be right next to you, if you feel faint or anything.”

_Delicate my ass._

You’d love to see how he fared before the things you had seen.

The cold of the morgue surprised you as much as it felt familiar. It seemed like yesterday when you broke into morgues with your dad. Ethan led you to the bodies one by one and you somehow sweet talked him into showing you the belongings. You figured out the key to getting him to talk. As long as you stroked his ego, Ethan would sell his soul too. Classic narcissistic jerk.

You quickly scanned the clinical plastic boxes with the belongings, spotting the small pouch in two out of three. Violet was spot on. Frigging witches! For a minute you wanted to snatch them up and take them with you, remove all the evidence for the hunter who was bound to check out the bodies. But there was always a chance of them being smart and figuring out that someone meddled with the belongings. That would only mean more trouble for you. You didn’t want that. It was better to take care of this whole deal as soon as possible. Most peculiarly, all of their clothes had reddish powder on it. If you didn’t know the area better, you’d have concluded it was red soil. However, the town predominantly had black sandy soil. It wasn’t much, but still something to go with.

You thanked Ethan hurriedly, wanting to get out of there, but he insisted that you waited till his shift was done, so you could get the quality time with him which you’d come seeking.

“I can’t, Ethan, really,” you told him, making an effort to control your tone. “Violet is waiting for me at home, she’s had a tough day.”

“Violet, who?” Crass, dumbass.

“My daughter.” It surprised you how cold your voice sounded, when you were actually seething inside. All this guy wanted was to get in your pants, what you wanted be damned. You couldn’t believe you ever agreed to go out on a date with him.

“Oh yeah,” he said dismissively. “You have a daughter, I completely forgot. It’s an easy mistake. You don’t look like you’d have a grown kid,” he wriggled his eyebrows, shamelessly checking you out. You wanted to kick him in the nuts.

“Sweet kid, that one,” he commented.

 _She would have your balls for breakfast,_ you wanted to tell him.

You were saved from making a retort, when the receptionist walked in. “Mr. Riggs? There’s someone here to see you. You might wanna come out.”

Ethan gave an annoyed huff, told you how important and life-altering his work was and rushed out. You breathed a sigh of relief and quickly collected some of the red duct in a small plastic bag. Just when you were plotting an exit, you heard the footsteps. Two people were walking towards the hall you were in. You identified one as Ethan’s weak stroll. The other seemed to be a powerful stride, judging from the taps the shoe-clad footsteps made on the linoleum floor. You rushed towards the edge of the room which housed a couple of metallic containers. They were huge and cylindrical, and the service exit was right behind them.

“C'mon, c'mon, Y/N…” you muttered to yourself as you fled towards them. This was your one chance of getting away from Ethan, and the sooner you figured out who was behind the killings, the better it would be.

The minute you reached behind the containers, a deep voice reverberated through the room. “… no visible signs of trauma?”

You halted. That voice made you stop dead in your tracks. Your breath caught in your throat, and your stomach dropped to the ground. Why? Why were you having the strangest attack of nostalgia? Of homesickness.

You froze behind the containers, straining your ears to listen, while wildly attempting to keep your uncalled for emotions under check.

“I already told you Agent!” Ethan’s voice was annoyed. “I don’t appreciate you coming over like this when we specifically asked you to check in tomorrow. My girlfriend is waiting for me somewhere here.”

“It won’t take long,” the other man said, as the sound of plastic boxes being reopened filled the room. You wanted him to speak again, to say something so you could hear the oddly sweet voice once more. Even in its depth, it was soft and husky. All you wanted was to turn and take a look, but it was too risky. You were concentrating too hard on where you’d heard it to really pay attention to what they were talking.

When the silence stretched on, you couldn’t control yourself. Leaning around the container you peeked, hoping Ethan wasn’t looking your way.

He wasn’t, neither was the other man. But in the fraction of a second, that you took to process the scene in front, you had seen enough. He stood over 6 feet tall, 6'4" inches exact, you recalled, dressed in a sharp navy suit. His posture was firm and effortlessly respectful. His broad shoulders were squared away from you. A mane of silky chestnut hair fell to the collar of his shirt, curling there as he inspected what was ahead of him. You turned, clutching your heart. You had seen enough.

Drawing a shaky breath, you ran out of the back entrance, not noticing where the hell you were running off to, until you found yourself somehow hunched over in your car.

_“Sam? Sam?” you called out, rounding around the corner and stepping onto pastor Jim’s back porch. The place was starting to feel like home to you._

_“Looks like you finally found time for your best friend,” Sam commented, without gazing up from the fat book in his lap. To anyone else, there would be nothing offbeat about his voice, but you knew better. Your best friend was sulking._

_Sitting down next to him, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “I missed you too, Sammy!” Immediately his shoulders slackened, and he melted into your hold._

_“Why weren’t you angry at me for not turning up for your birthday? I wanted you to be angry,” he pouted. Boy, did he look adorable._

_“Well, I knew one of you had to stay back, and Dean told me you were gallant enough to offer,” you told him lightly._

_“That’s not what he said,” he muttered,_

_“Did too!”_

_“Did you miss me at all?” You saw through him then. It wasn’t like Sam to pout over things, or be possessive really. It was him being subconsciously insecure about his friendship. Sam had known forever that you wanted to jump his brother’s bones, and he teased you relentlessly about it, but only recently things had started to change. Sam could see that. You were spending more time with Dean and he was missing his best friend._

_“Why else do you think I lied to dad and drove three hours to see you, you idiot?” you admonished him. Sam finally looked up, a smile stretching across his lips._

_“What’s up with the hair?” you asked. It looked like he was growing it out or something. His hair was choppy and uneven, falling in messy bangs over his forehead. For the first time you realized just how shiny it was._

_“I haven’t had the time to go get a haircut,” he frowned, catching a lock of the bangs and frowning at it. “It’s starting to grow out weirdly.”_

_“Nah, I like it!” you gave his hair a once over. “Tell you what? Just grow it out. You never know who might fall for it,” you winked._

_Sam laughed. “If you like it, that’s enough of a reason to grow it.”_

_“Is that so?”_

_“Yeah,” he smirked. “So when you get together with my brother, and completely forget about me, maybe you’ll see my mop of hair in a crowd and recognize me after all."_

_Sam smiled sadly._

_He was right, you had been so wrapped up in dancing along the edges with Dean, you hadn’t talked to Sam in ages. You had no idea what he was up to lately or how much he was missing you up till now._

_"I’m so sorry, Sam,” you sighed, leaning against him, so that your back was resting against the side of his arm. “I’ve been a terrible friend.”_

_“You’re not, Y/N,” Sam said slowly, as if he was carefully considering his words. “I just wanted to talk to you. I didn’t know who else to go to.”_

_“What happened to Dean?”_

_“I-I’m not quite sure he’ll understand.”_

_You turned to face him. “Spill.”_

_“I- I’ve been thinking…” Sam started, but stopped, hesitating. He said the rest of it in one go. “I want to go to college.”_

_“College?"_

_"Yeah,” he looked down. “Next year I’m gonna apply to colleges, even the IVY league ones. I know… I know I can do it, get a full ride even. In spite of all the moving around, I’ve managed to get perfect grades. I really want to do this.”_

_“You do realize this means leaving your family, right? John would be furious,” you stated the obvious. You knew Sam wasn’t expecting false words of sympathy from you, he was expecting harsh reality. If he couldn’t pass this by you, he had no chance of passing this by his family._

_“I know,” he sighed. “And you know I don’t agree with him on all occasions…”_

_You knew that, too. Sam was always butting heads with John. A lot of times it drove Dean insane, but mostly it only made him feel helpless. Times like those, both brothers sought their comfort with you._

_“But It’s not dad I’m worried about.”_

_“It’s Dean…” you completed._

_“Yeah.”_

_Again, Sam didn’t need to say it out loud. You simply understood. He hadn’t expressly put it into words, but Sam definitely loved his brother more than he loved his dad. In a lot of ways, Dean had been the one to raise him. You also knew exactly how Dean would take it. To him, it would be the ultimate whiplash, nothing short of a betrayal._

_“Am I being selfish?” Sam questioned, his eyes begging you to understand. And you did. Sam had always been different… different from his brother, but so much more like his father than either of them realized. Both of them were too stubborn for their own good. Maybe Sam didn’t see it yet, but you saw the bigger picture. Sam had always had the luxury of even choosing a future, because Dean had been the sacrificing one. He had let Sam have the upper hand, let him have anything Dean was capable of bringing to him. Was he being selfish? Maybe yeah. But one thing was certain, if Sam didn’t leave now, there would be one hell of fight waiting later. Besides, there was nothing in this for him. He didn’t even know his mother, he’d never known one. Sam craved normalcy like a drug, so did Dean, and so did you. But he was the only one who had it in him to rebel and fight for it._

_The other thing was, Sam would have escaped years ago. He even had, but it was only for the sake of his brother that he returned… He had somehow always returned when Dean needed him._

_So you answered him truthfully. “Maybe. Maybe you are selfish, Sam. But you need to do what you want to do. Sometimes you need to do what’s right for you,” you told him honestly._

_God forbid if there came a day when you had to run away from the people you loved, you would want Sam to offer the same courtesy to you. To understand you._

_“Really? So you don’t think I should stay?” Hope lit up his sharp face._

_“Not if you don’t want to. You’ll just keep building up all that anger inside of you and one day explode in all our faces, you ass! Do what you want to. Follow your heart.” You placed your hand on his chest._

_He exhaled, like a weight had been lifted of his shoulders. “It’s a long shot, but I’m gonna apply for pre-law at Stanford,” he muttered quietly. “It’s a really, really long shot.”_

_“I think you can do it,” you thumped his back. Sam could do anything he set his mind to._

_“Really?"_

_"Hells yeah!” you laughed. “You’re the smartest nerd to ever nerd. Tell you what, if I ever have a kid, I’m gonna name the kid Sam for good luck, so they’ll be as smart as you.”_

_Sam snorted. “You’re not serious.”_

_“As a heart attack,” you dead-panned._

_“We’ll see,” he smiled smugly, before it melted down. “Hey, Y/N?”_

_“I won’t tell Dean about this Sam…” you said before he could ask._

_“And…” he started._

_“I’ll always be there for him. It’ll be fine. Go do what you gotta -” the rest of your sentence drowned, as his bear hug engulfed you, his familiar scent invaded your senses, the smell of home. “I don’t know what I’ll ever do without you, Y/N,” he breathed against your neck. His voice broke on your name._

_“Whine like the snot-nosed kid that you are.” Suddenly you felt tears pressing your eyes. Sam had trusted you with his ambition, his dream. He had trusted you with him. You loved this boy like your own blood._

_“C'mon now, Sammy,” you clapped him on the back. “Time to get inside.”_

_Sam cleared his throat, wiped his face before breaking apart and standing up._

_“Whoa!” you exclaimed. “What the fuck happened to you?”_

_He grinned, extending his hand towards you._

_“I leave you alone for a couple of months and you grow up into this giant? How tall are you?” You grabbed his hand and hoisted yourself up._

_“6'4” now, taller than Dean. He’s so mad about it,“ Sam chuckled. That laugh was golden._

_"Hey,” he called out as you started towards the house, making you turn back to him. “That Sam is going to be one lucky kid to have a mom like you. This Sam right here, is lucky, too.”_

_“Shut up,” you said hoarsely trying to control the tears. “And cut the damn hair, they won’t take you in at Stanford with a mop like that.” You reached up on the tips of your toes to mess it for him._

_“Oh, I’m growing it out for you. How else will you know it’s me when I’m a hot shot lawyer in a suit?” he winked, as he led you around the corner of the house._

The breathing turned to shorts bursts, head beginning to ache from the effort of controlling the tears. You couldn’t afford to break down now. It was in the past, all of it. As much as you wanted to go back running inside, it had been eight years since you last saw him, and if all those years on your own had taught you anything, it was to not trust anyone. People change, just like you had. Even if it was someone you would have once willingly died for, you couldn’t trust him blindly. Now you had a daughter to think of, and you had to do everything in your power to protect her. When you had first realized that a hunter was chasing the case, you’d been scared of exposure. It was nothing compared to what you felt now, because this wasn’t some lame ass hunter, he was the very best. You pulled yourself together and rammed your foot on the accelerator, revving out of the parking lot. You had to hurry this quickly and carefully, because if you slackened even one bit, you’d have Sam Winchester on your ass.


	6. Chapter 6

It was past 9 when Sam finally stepped out of the morgue. Dean had been right, or rather _'Sam'_ had been right, it was, in fact, witches. He had looked over the evidence methodically, double checking the two hex bags. Sam had to admit though, that his mind wasn’t in it. If he was truthful, he was still thinking about what Dean had said. A sixteen year old kid named ‘Violet Y/L/N’ who went by 'Sam.’ That was way too many coincidences. Hope flared up in his chest briefly before Sam managed to extinguish it. No, it wasn’t possible. He had seen Y/N not more than eight years ago, and she had been alone and unattached. If she’d had a kid, he would’ve known. This was all just a twisty shrewd joke played on him by fate.

The one that got away, that’s how Dean thought of her. They never talked of her anymore, and even though Dean would like Sam to believe he had moved on and forgotten about her, it wasn’t true. The walls in the bunker weren’t thick enough to muffle the sound of Dean screaming her name in nightmares completely, or sighing for her in his sleep in the passenger seat of Impala on long nights. Sam knew better than to bring it up. He let his brother have his peace, because Dean honestly believed Y/N was better off without him. Which of course was a huge pile of bull shit according to Sam. He’d been the one to listen to her raving about his brother all night long. She had _really_ loved Dean, and that sort of love didn’t disappear over years.

He still remembered the night he had left for Stanford. The fight, the shouting, everything. He remembered texting her to check on his brother, and he remembered her text.

_“He’s fine Sam. Go, be you! All the love- Y/N.”_

Y/N had loved them both. For the life of him Sam could never figure out how she had left them high and dry like that. Twice!

Tonight, try as he might, Sam couldn’t get her out of his head. He drove back to the motel slowly, sifting through the evidence in his head, and deciding on how to approach the situation. He would have to go through the town history, or at least the town developments and check for places with abundance of red soil. Do witches use red soil or iron oxides in their rituals? He forced himself to keep asking the questions over and over again. Y/N still kept interrupting his thoughts.

Sam tarried a bit at the burger joint, taking longer than usual to pick out the order. By the time he made it back to the motel, it was past 10. He knocked the door twice, but there was no reply. It annoyed Sam that his brother had run off to a bar with the key, and without informing him. Picking the lock was easier than working himself up, so that’s what Sam did. He wasn’t surprised to find the room immersed in darkness, finding Dean sleeping on one of the two queen beds, however did. Once inside, Sam did a double take. Not only was Dean fast asleep, but he had a slight smile playing on his lips. Sam had forgotten the last time he had seen his brother sleep so peacefully. Dean hadn’t exactly undressed for bed, no, but his shoes were lying at the foot of his bed as if he had pushed them off in order to get comfortable. His jacket and button up were both strewn over the night stand and lamp. Dean was lazily stretched out on his back, arms crossed below his chest, feet crossed at the ankles.

Sam froze immediately. Dean had fallen asleep while waiting for him. That was so rare.

Sam moved with exaggerated slowness as he crossed the room, careful not to make any noise. He decided to ditch the shower in favor of just undressing and quietly slipping into his own bed. He debated whether or not to switch on the light, concerned he might wake Dean up. After contemplating for a moment, Sam turned his bedside lamp on. Unlike his brother, Sam’s head was bustling with questions. He opened his laptop intending to look up information on the red dirt, but instead- as was his habit- he opened the small minimized window that kept tracking name “Y/N Y/L/N.” The probe had been on for the last eight years. Sam wasn’t stupid. He knew Y/N would never keep her own name as long as she wanted to stay away. Sam also knew every alias she had ever used, and all of them had always turned up empty.

Every time Sam learned a new method of hacking, tracking or searching, he always searched for her first, but after exhausting all his resources over the years, he had stuck to just running her name and picture through the scanner. Every day. It made him feel less helpless, even though it was just as pointless.

Like every day, the probe yielded no result today.

Sam sighed and turned to take a look at his brother, who was now snoring against the pillow. Dean deserved better than this. He deserved to be loved, to sleep with this smile on his face every day.

Sam knew the reason behind it, too. It was that _girl_. Sam or Violet, whatever her name was. Dean had been grinning so wide while talking about her. He’d been so happy, he looked his age for a change, maybe even years younger.

Sam narrowed his eyes as he opened a new probe and searched for “Violet Y/L/N.” The search came up empty, which was expected For a girl that young, there would be no criminal record, and today’s investigation would take time to enter the system. He tried the next best thing, searched social media, with the permutation and combination of every name that 'Sam’ 'Violet’ 'Y/L/N’ offered. Nothing. This was weird but not entirely impossible. He tried the last thing he could think of, hack into the school records, but after buffering for over ten minutes, the page crashed. Nothing again.

With a huff, Sam shut the laptop. This was useless. He looked up and let out a deep breath. Outside, drops started falling and Sam couldn’t help but lose himself in thoughts of finding his best friend again. It was barely a lead, but he had to follow his gut instinct. As the steady sound of raindrops lulled him to sleep, Sam’s last conscious thought was of that girl- Sam. He had to see her for himself, come what may.

**Reader’s POV:**

By the time you reached your house, it was well into the night. You had somehow managed to calm yourself down enough to be able to think rationally. You were shaken up as hell, but your daughter was more important than your own stress. She had just witnessed a murder today. The fear from witnessing something so gruesome must have caught up with her by now. So, you shoved your own panic away and steeled yourself to focus on hers.

You expected Vi to be asleep, given her terrible day. Instead, you found her bundled up in the rug with a hot mug of coffee and a big fat algebra book in her lap.

"Violet Dean Y/L/N! What do you think you’re doing?" 

"I have an algebra test tomorrow,” she replied, without looking up from her book.

Seeing her huddled in with a book, her thick nerd glasses sliding down the tip of her nose, while loose hair wilted down from the thick bun at the top of your hair, you assured yourself that you’d done the right thing. As you had driven farther and farther from the morgue, every cell of your body had screamed at you to make that U-turn and run back to Sam. You wanted to hug him and cry ceaselessly for the lost years. He was the only connection to your true self, the Y/N who was now lost to you.

But looking down at Vi, it all came back, all the reasons that had made you run away. Just as that Y/N was lost to you, there was every possibility of that Sam being lost, as well. The last time you had seen Sam, he’d vowed to bring his dead brother back, vowed to kill Lilith who was the reason for it all. That night, the coldness in Sam’s eyes had scared you, and for all you knew, that rage might have only multiplied over the years, turning him into a cold blooded killer. Did you really want such a man in your daughter’s life, even if he was the only link to her father?

No, you did not. That decided it for you. You pulled up your laptop and hacked into the school’s server, tweaking the code so that the site crashed. Luckily for you, Vi had zero interest in socializing, so you didn’t have that to worry about accounts.

You knew Sam, and while devising all the ways to make yourself invisible, you had been sure to give yourself a name that could be nicknamed into Y/N, and Pastor Jim’s last name, Murphy. He had been more of a father to you anyway. Vi had never questioned your last name, assuming that her Y/L/N came from her father. It was effective and worked perfectly.

You checked and double checked all the internet records making sure that none of them gave you away, before sagging into the sofa. Your nerves were frayed and stomach felt like it wanted to launch itself out of your throat.

“Mom?” Vi’s soft voice interrupted you. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, baby. Why’d you ask?”

“Because you don’t look alright. And that is totally your lying face. Was Ethan that big of a jerk to you?”

You sighed, deciding to tell her the truth. “He was just as jerky as we expected him to be. I… I just ran into someone I used to know.”

“Used to know?” She repeated your words slowly, urging you to answer.

“Yeah, an old friend. I knew him from before you were born.” Telling Vi that he was her uncle, probably wasn’t the best way to go about it. She didn’t even know she had one to begin with.

“That’s great!” She grinned wide. “I didn’t know you had friends that old. Why didn’t you invite him over?”

“Because I was the only one who saw him. He didn’t see me, and I didn’t call out.”

“Why would you do that?" 

"Because it’s been ages since we last talked, I don’t know if he is a nice person anymore,” you mused, looking into the fire that was thriving in your stone fireplace.

“Well, that’s just stupid!” Vi snorted. You turned to look at her.

“Excuse me?”

“You always do this, mom! Every good date, every good guy, you run away. I know you really loved dad,” Her voice softened. “But you can’t keep running away from everything, especially things that remind you of him. That friend of yours knew dad, didn’t he? That’s why you ran away.”

Your daughter was way too perceptive, for anyone’s good. You said nothing. She took it as a yes.

Vi crossed over and sat down besides you, her head resting on your shoulder. “Do you truly think that this friend of yours is not nice anymore? What did he do to make you feel this way? I know you don’t trust anyone easily, mom, but you can’t keep up like this. You think dad would’ve wanted you to keep to just yourself and me?

The answer was no. Dean would’ve hated for you to be a shell of yourself. You had kept Vi from him and the fact that he had died without ever knowing he had a daughter was going to eat you until you were cold in your grave. But would he have wanted for Sam to not know Vi? Then there was also the matter of whether or not Sam could truly become so cold as to not want to know his niece? He’d be a sweet and empathetic kid. You’d known that boy better than everyone but one. He had always been too damn kind, sometimes at the cost of his own comfort. Vi was right, you should’ve, at least, given him a chance, waited to see who he had grown up to be. You were wrong to have ran away, and it made you morose all of a sudden.

"Hey, mom?” Vi gripped your hand abruptly. “You hear that?”

Your eyes roamed around the room as you tried to catch the sound. It was indecipherable at first, but getting louder by the second. Faster and heavier. The pitter patter of water drops hitting the tile covered roof.

You turned back to look at Vi, your eyes widening with excitement. The first rain of the season.

It took a second, and then both of you were racing to get outside, trying your best to get ahead of the other, tripping over furniture in the process. You gave it your best fight, but Vi was out of the door just a split second before you.

The rain was torrential and the two of you were soaked before you made it halfway into the front yard.

“I won!” Vi yelled, dancing a victory dance to rub it in your face; that little minx.

“You tripped me,” you shouted back, in an effort to raise your voice above the downpour.

“I did not.” She stuck her tongue out at you, and you couldn’t help but tackle her to the ground, smearing the both of you in mud.

“You did not?” You yelled in her ears, as you dragged your fingers along the side of her stomach, tickling her where it affected her the most. She let out a squeal.

“Geroff me!” Vi giggled, trying to get back at you, but you had her in a vice grip.

“No chance, Sammy, you asked for it!” you laughed harder, pushing her deeper into the ground, not letting her get the best of you. The rain was falling hard now, reducing the already non-existent visibility in the dark. Vi took advantage of that, rolling you both around until you were coated in mud. It was slimy and disgusting, it was also so much fun!

You laughed till your throat was sore and your stomach hurt. rolling around was stupid and silly, but it was also cathartic. All of the day’s stress and pain seemed to wash out of your body along with the water as you played catch with your daughter. The two of you slid and fell down so much, often dragging the other with you, that within no time your limbs started to ache. You loved every moment of it.

The two of you stayed out for hours, playing, shivering but refusing to go back inside. Looking at your daughter, laughing so freely, you realised once again how every damn pain you had ever had to go through was so worth it.

**_Dean’s POV:_ **

_Rain poured relentlessly. The curtain of water made it impossible to see beyond a few feet as Dean rushed to the back porch of the house. He was drenched within seconds, but he couldn’t care less._

_“Y/N?” He yelled, looking around and not finding her. “Y/N! I know you’re here.”_

_He put his hand to his forehead, unsuccessfully trying to shield himself from the rain and see through the downpour, but there was no one in immediate sight. Scanning through the back porch and most of the Pastor’s yard, he discovered a figure huddled in the corner, leaning against the far side of the fence, almost invisible to the eye._

_“Shit,” Dean cursed, hurrying towards her. To say Y/N was soaked to the skin was an understatement. Her skin looked drenched and her teeth were chattering so hard that Dean was afraid she would bite her lip deep enough to draw blood. The way she was crouching, Dean guessed it had been hours since she had been out in the rain. Y/N’s eyes were closed and she was breathing shallowly._

_“Y/N/N?” Dean gripped her by her shoulders, shaking them. She did not open her eyes. “Y/N, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Seeing her like this, almost lifeless, scared Dean beyond his wits. “Talk to me, please?”_

_“Gone,” she whispered in a voice so faint, Dean wasn’t sure she had said anything at all._

_“He’s gone,” she said again, a little louder this time. Her voice was so brittle, Dean’s heart broke._

_“I know.” He said tightly. “C'mon, let’s get you inside. You’ll freeze out here.”_

_She shook her head, resisting him feebly when he tried to help her off the ground._

_But Dean was taking none of it. He swiftly bent down to lift her in his arms. She offered no resistance this time and went limp against his chest once he had pulled her up. This was not his Y/N, this was not the stubborn girl he knew._

_Dean set her down on sofa once they were inside the house, and Y/N crumpled against the side, breaking into tears._

_“I’m an awful daughter. I begged him to not leave me, begged him to not go on that hunt, but he didn’t listen to me. He never listened to me._

_Dean sat down besides her and pulled her into his arms as tightly as he could. He could feel her burrowing in his chest, streams of water leaving their bodies, soaking into the cushions and flowing in rivulets along the floor._

_"Shhh… Don’t say that,” he said, kissing her hair. “It’s not your fault. This life…”_

_“Did he not love me?” She asked, voice muffling against his shirt._

_Dean only hugged her harder. “He did,Y/N. You know that. He did the best he could.”_

_But his best wasn’t enough. It never had been. Dean knew that fear, the fear of waiting. He had always put on a brave face for Sam, told him how invincible their dad was, but even then, Dean had to patch up John the most. He had stayed up watching his father drink to forget the horrors. He had himself spent countless sleepless nights waiting for his dad to return. This life was hard, and he could only imagine the pain Y/N was going through._

_Dean had been finishing up a case in Wisconsin when Pastor Jim had called him. Y/N’s father was dead, brutally killed in Wyoming. The body was barely identifiable. Jim had called up Y/N at the motel she was holed up in, but she hadn’t come to bid her father a goodbye. In fact, the girl was nowhere to be found._

_Sam and Dean had juggled between the Pastor Jim’s house and Bobby’s place as kids, but Y/N had spent a good chunk of her life with the Pastor, so when the man had called, Dean understood the pain and fear in his voice. Y/N was like a daughter to him._

_But while the pastor roamed all around Wyoming trying to find Y/N, Dean had instinctively driven to the Pastor’s house in Minnesota. It was her safe haven. Where else could she be?_

_“What am I going to do?” She whispered, a sense of horror echoing through her words. “He was all I had, and he left me alone.”_

_“You need to listen to me very carefully, Y/N,” Dean told her. “You are NOT alone. You have me and Sam. And you will ALWAYS have us. Sam’s with dad right now, helping him with a werewolf, he’ll be on his way the moment its taken care of. You’re like a sister to him. And I…” He cleared his throat. “You mean a hell lot to me, sweetheart. Don’t you ever think you’re alone again.”_

_She nodded her head against his chest, crying harder. Dean could feel her fingers balling into fists, grasping a handful of his coat. He ran his hand over her back, hoping the friction warmed her, until her sobs subsided. When she finally looked up, Y/N’s eyes were red, puffy. She looked tired enough to faint._

_“C'mon, let’s get you out of these wet clothes. You want to eat something?”_

_She shook her head. “Sleep.”_

_“Alright. Then let’s get you into bed.”_

_He found Y/N some of her clothes that were stashed in the room she usually stayed in. When she was dry and finally in bed, she curled on her side, hugging the pillow. Dean pulled the covers over her and bent down to kiss her on the forehead._

_“Goodnight, Y/N/N,” he breathed. When he turned to leave, her soft hand grasped his calloused one, stopping Dean in his tracks._

_“Dean?” She said quietly. “Will you stay with me?” The vulnerability in her voice tugged at something deep in his heart. There was no question of him denying her whatever she wanted. He squeezed her hand, letting her know that he was coming to her._

_Quickly, Dean got rid of his own wet clothes and found himself an old Metallica shirt from her rack, that she had borrowed from him. Pulling it over his boxers, he slowly climbed in with her. She immediately clung to him, ducking her head the crook of his shoulder._

_“I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” she said softly. “I just couldn’t… ”_

_“He wouldn’t hold it against you.”_

_She was quiet for a while, and just when Dean thought she was asleep, she mumbled, “I was angry with him. Angry that he was going out on this other hunt after he took care of those demons in Wyoming. He’d said it would take at least a month. I was angry that he wasn’t going to be around for my eighteenth birthday and I threw a fit. I didn’t talk to him all day. He… He left thinking I was angry with him.”_

_Her voice broke on the last word. She took a long rattling breath and continued-_

_“They told me that the demons tortured him because he knew something… Something about this big plan. I had asked him what it was about, but he never told me. They said they were gonna burn him. Wrap him up, then salt and burn him like he was just another case. But he’s not just another case… he was my dad.”_

_“I know, sweetheart… I know.”_

_“All I wanted was to get him some flowers… for a grave…” she sniffed, and Dean could feel her tears soaking through his shirt. “But when I got here, it was raining so heavily, and those violets got trampled in the rain. I- I couldn’t even get him the damn flowers.” She started sobbing again._

_“Shhh… Shhh…” Dean soothed her. “Stop saying that! It’s not your fault. When the rain is gone, we’ll have the flower again. We can go place them there in his memory.“_

_"I’m gonna hate this stupid rain forever.”_

_“I won’t let you,” Dean told her. “When you feel better, we’ll go out and get drenched, play ball, you know that sort of thing? It’ll be fun. I promise.”_

_“Hey, Dean?” She asked, and Dean noted with relief that there was tinge of curiosity in her voice. She had stopped crying. “How did you find me?”_

_He couldn’t help his small smile in spite of himself. “I promised you I’d find you, remember? I know how to keep my word.”_

_He could feel rather than see her lips stretched into a small smile against the base of his neck._

_“Thanks, Dee.”_

_“You don’t have to,” he said, relieved that she was smiling. He lifted his chest a little so he could bend his neck and kiss her forehead, but in that very moment she looked up and met his lips with her own in a soft kiss. The brush of her full lips against him was pure bliss. Dean had never experienced anything like it before. The lightest of pressure sent his heart into an overdrive._

_It was her silent gesture, a thank you beyond words. She kissed him briefly again, before curling up in his arms, whispering his name…_

_Dean… Dean…._

“Dean! DEAN!” Dean woke up with a start, surprised to suddenly find himself alone in a different bed. It was just a dream… A memory…

“Sorry to wake you up like this, but we gotta go!”

Dean rubbed his eyes, checking the clock to find that it was 8:30 in the morning. He had been out for a solid 10 hours. “What happened?”

“The sheriff called,” Sam said hurriedly, changing into his fed shirt. “There’s another death.”

“What? Who?” Dean sat up, shaking his head to clear the memory of Y/N’s lips against his and pay attention to Sam..

“The witness from the first murder. The second witness had a close save last night. We need to check on that girl-

 _"Sam!”_ Dean gasped, moving out of the bed with a lightning speed. He didn’t know why he felt such a strong need to protect her, but he’d be damned if he let anyone touch a hair of that girl. She had to be safe, happen what may. As Dean started to get changed, he vowed to himself that he was going to make sure of that.


	7. Chapter 7

You groaned, dreading the fact that you had to get up and adult today. There wasn’t a muscle in your body that wasn’t sore or aching. But in spite of the pain, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret last night. Playing with Vi in the rain had been so fun and so needed. You and Vi had stumbled inside the house late into the night, impossibly wet and lumbered into your bedroom, pulling on random dry clothes over yourself and collapsing on the bed. It was the best night’s sleep you’d had in a while. Most importantly, you had woken up with a clearer mind.

A groan sounded from besides you as Vi woke up and you grinned. You weren’t alone in your misery.

“I don’t want to go to school,” she moaned, throwing her arms over her face. It made you chuckle.

“I don’t want to go to work either." 

"Let’s just stay in bed and forget about everything. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Well, the electricity will be cut off cause we haven’t paid the bills, no water, no wi-fi and we’ll just rot here until the next ice-age.”

“You paint a very appealing picture,” Vi yawned, slowly getting up from the bed. Her every movement was punctuated with a wince. “As it happens, you’re wrong. The worse that can happen is that I won’t get into Stanford.”

You rolled your eyes. The nerd.

“I can see that, you know,” she said, as she walked up to her room with her back towards you.

Both of you were running late as you drove towards Vi’s school. You hoped that the consignment of flowers which was to be delivered today hadn’t already arrived at the shop.

When you stopped in the parking lot, Vi didn’t move from her seat. She was chewing at the insides of her mouth, wriggling her hands in her lap. 

“What’s up?” You asked.

“I don’t want to go to school,” she whispered, repeating her words from morning. She wasn’t meeting your eyes, afraid that you would judge her for being afraid. “Those kids are mean to me, they call me names. And now that Aaron died when he was with me, it’s all going to get so much worse. I… I’m scared.”

“You know what I did when I was scared?”

“What?” She looked up at you.

“I called your dad,” you said softly.

“Really?” Her eyes were round and eager; it made you smile. You never volunteered information about Dean. It was the perfect way to distract her.

“Yeah. This one time, I got lost while getting home from school in a new town. I was so scared. The next time that I saw your dad, he promised me he’d find me when I was lost.”

Vi’s eyes filled up. It tore at your heart, seeing her miss a father she’d never known. Her lips quivered and she averted her gaze. You bought your fingers to her chin, making her look into your eyes.

“Those kids are idiots. As long as its words, you walk with your head held high, cause you’ve done no wrong. If they touch one hair of your head, you break their bones. I’ll stand with you, but don’t you give up without a fight. You gotta face things head on, Sammy. There’s no point running away from them. They’ll only chase you, and if you manage to shirk them away, there will always be a _"what if…”_ to haunt you for the rest of your life.“ You realized weren’t talking about Vi’s problem anymore…

"You really believe in that?” Vi asked you. You knew exactly what she was hinting at.

“I do,” you smiled, nodding at her. She understood, smiling back in acknowledgement. You’d follow what you had told your daughter. Next time that you meet Sam, and there _will_ be a next time, you’d face him, wherever that took you.

“Hey, mom?”

“Yeah?”

“What would dad do when he was scared?”

“He’d come to me,” you answered easily.

_The light knock on the door woke you up in the middle of the night. The moment you became aware of the noise on the door, your senses went into a hyper alert. No one was going to visit you this late into the night._

_You quietly got out of the bed and pulled out your father’s gun from underneath the pillow. You’d been sleeping with it hidden there for the last four months, since his death. It made you feel not so alone in the quiet of dusty motel rooms, made you feel protected, like your dad was right there with you._

_You clicked the safety off, and quietly made your way towards the door._

_***Knock knock*.** _

_This time the sound was louder, more desperate._

_Who could it possibly be?_

_No one knew where you were bunking these days. You had wanted to be alone, to get over everything that had happened._

_“Y/N? Open the door!” A broken voice called from outside._

_Your heart clenched at the pain there. You quickly threw the gun aside, and opened the door without looking into the peephole. You knew that voice, and the helplessness in it scared you._

_You opened the door to find a soaking wet Dean Winchester standing before you. His hair was dripping, and his stance was defeated. He was looking down, like he was trying to collect himself._

_“Dean?” You asked, voice uncharacteristically shaky._

_He didn’t look up. Was he drunk?_

_“Dean?” You called again. “Are you okay?”_

_He looked up then, eyes were bloodshot. “No,” he choked._

_“Sam- S… Sam- ” He started, but he couldn’t finish it._

_Fear made your throat constrict. “Sam? What happened to Sam? Is he okay?”_

_“Yeah,” Dean cleared his throat. “Sam… he left.”_

_Oh. The understanding hit faster than you expected._

_“C'mon in,” you took his hand and guided him inside. Pulling your used towel off the back of the chair, you handed it to him. Dean took it stoically._

_“Won’t you ask where?” Dean questioned._

_“I’m sure you’ll tell me when you’re ready,” you said softly, placing your hand on his cheek, the coarse stubble tickling your skin. He melted into your touch, closing his eyes and relishing in the warmth._

_“C'mon, let’s get you out of these clothes. You’re freezing.” You busied yourself in helping him remove his jacket. In truth, you were trying to avoid his eyes. You knew where Sam was. You knew this was going to happen one day, you had known for months now. You knew exactly where Sam was right now. On his way to Stanford._

_You were the first person Sam had confided in about his hopes of living a normal life, of becoming a lawyer. You were the one he came to when everything was too much to handle just before his SATs. When he had miraculously managed to get a full ride into Stanford, Sam had travelled 18 hours to get to you, so you could celebrate it with him. You were the one person he could unabashedly share his dreams with._

_The two of you had jumped with joy, gotten drunk and cried happy tears at his accomplishment. The next morning when he was leaving, he had pulled you into a bear hug and thanked you for everything. You still remembered his smiling face as he waved, reassuring you that he would find a way to convince Dean that it was a good idea, if not his dad._

_Looking at Dean, you could see that hadn’t gone as per the plan. Even as Sam had reassured you, you’d seen this coming. Sam was everything to Dean, there was no good way of telling someone that you were taking away half their life support. You knew this was exactly how it was gonna end._

_The heater in the drafty room was broken. It was too cold to stay outside the covers, especially in wet clothes. Dean barely seemed to care as you helped him strip down to his boxers. You guided him to your bed and climbed in with him, pulling the covers over the two of you._

_He was silent as he rested his back against the headboard. You curled up against his side._

_At long last he sighed. “Sam got into Stanford.” There was no anger in his voice, just hopelessness and resignation. It hurt you so much._

_"He just upped and left,” Dean whispered. “He and Dad got into this huge fight in the middle of the road. They said awful things to each other and I just stood there listening to it all.”_

_You rubbed your hand against the side of his arm, urging him to keep going, clearly visualizing the scene. It was Dean’s worst nightmare, just the mere thought made you shudder._

_“I wanted to stop them from fighting,” dean continued. “I wanted to stop him from leaving. He’s still a kid, a stubborn ass, in fact… there was so much shouting. Dad asked me to keep out of it. He accused Sam of not caring for the family, not caring enough about mom…”_

_Sam didn’t even know his mother. All he knew were stories. All his life he had been dragged in a revenge that wasn’t his own. But John was wrong, Sam did care about his brother. This whole deal was hardest on Dean. It wasn’t his decision to be brought into this life, he wasn’t the one leaving his family to pursue his dreams. But he was the one hurting the most. John would be out and about in a bar, drowning his sorrow and anger in liquor._

_Dean, however, had trusted you. Tugging at his arm, you forced him to look at you. The vulnerability in those eyes pulled at something deep in your heart._

_“Hey, hey… look at me,” you said. “There was nothing you could’ve done about this. It was Sam’s choice. Think about it… it’s not like he’s gone forever. He’s just gone to college. He’ll be back.“_

_"He won’t. Dad said, if he walked out, he should stay gone. He can’t ever come back.”_

_Dean ran his hands over his face, once, twice before breathing out a long huff. You had never seen him so shaken. He was the rock, he supported everyone._

_You could still remember the day Dean had held you in his arms as you cried over the loss of your dad. To see him this lost and scared was a reality check. As unbreakable as he seemed, Dean was just as human as you and everyone else._

_“Dean, he’ll be back,” you repeated, running your fingers along his jaw. “John is not his only family. You are, too.”_

_“You’re right,” he said at last, looking into your eyes. “I’m just-” He seemed to be at a loss of words, his eyes were watery and his lips quivered. You reached out for him, and pulled him to you. His cold, bare skin contrasted with your warm, soft one, making both of you shiver lightly. Despite that, you didn’t let go._

_You pulled him closer and closer still. Dean responded, fisting his fingers into your thin tank top, and holding onto you like dear life._

_Wishing there was some way to comfort him… something more, you held him back. Dean curled up into you, nestling his head beneath your neck, his face pressed against your chest. You couldn’t hold it in any longer as you gently pressed your lips into his wet hair, trailing gentle kisses downwards till you grazed the skin of his neck. Dean stilled in your arms, and for a second you were scared whether you had crossed a line. But when he looked up at you, his eyes were melting emeralds, begging you to take him in._

_So you did. You pulled him to you, capturing his lips within yours, unhesitant, pouring all the love that you felt for him in that kiss. At first Dean was caught off guard by the flood of feelings, but you didn’t pull back. You knew Dean well enough to know that any sort of emotion or love towards him was always going to catch him by surprise because he wasn’t used to it. So you didn’t give up just yet. You held on._

_And then he kissed you back. Slow and deliberate, as if he was intent on making every second count. Every slide of his tongue against your lips was fraught with so much of “more” that it brought tears in your eyes behind the closed lids. Dean would never have to say it, but you knew. He loved you. Soon his hands were everywhere, exploring your body, skimming softly over your naked arms, slipping underneath your tank top, grazing the skin of your stomach, clutching at your lower back. It was all agonizingly slow, setting your skin on fire._

_It didn’t take long for his eyes to meet yours, the silent question too evident in them. Instead of saying it out loud, or doing something bold like you had always imagined, you could only look away and nod shyly against his chest. Dean’s fingers were quick to raise your chin up, making you look in his eyes, so he could find his answer there. A breathtaking smile spread across his face as he found what he was looking for._

_In the past couple of months, since you had kissed Dean for that first time, you had lain awake in your bed for hours thinking about what it would feel like to get lost in him. You had imagined being pressed into the bed, his hands clutching yours as you screamed his name over and over again. Your little fantasies were all hard and fast, still they had you sweating in the sheets._

_But Dean? He was slow, drawing out every moment, making the most of it. He was revering your body. Loving you without hesitation, without a second thought._

_And you? You didn’t question a single thing that night, loving him with everything you had. Not screaming, but sighing his name, as it fell off your lips like a prayer till you were both exhausted, falling asleep entangled in each other’s arms._

Long after Vi had walked into the parking lot, smiling and happy, long after you had pulled out and were driving towards the shop, you couldn’t shake it out of your head. Vi always had the brightest smile reserved for her dad. You wanted to share his story, your _real_ story with her, but you were scared that she might ask too much. That one day she’d find out that her father never knew she existed. She’d know that her assumption that he had loved her more than his life was a lie because he never knew he’d had a daughter to love. She would someday ask about the last conversation her mother had had with her father, and she would find out how it ended.

You didn’t want that. You’d rather she lived in her own assumed story, because while it was based off of a lie, it wasn’t necessarily false. Dean would have loved her more than his life. Who wouldn’t? Your daughter was gem and Dean had been a man yearning for love. You could easily picture them sitting on the couch together and binging southern movies. It hurt your heart to think about everything she was missing. Which was why you had done your best to be both- a mother and a father to her, loving her to the full capacity of your heart. But as you drove, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was enough.

* * *

Dean couldn’t help but rush his brother at the station. They had left the hotel soon enough, but the procedures Sam had insisted on following were taking all the time in the world. Sam thought it might be a good idea to check on the witness from the second murder who was being questioned at station, before heading to the school because the station was on the way. Distressingly, it was taking longer than expected.

Dean was pacing the floor so fast, he might have worn a hole in the carpet.

“Oh, he’s finally out!” He threw his hands up in the air when Sam came out of the holding room. Sam threw him a bitch face.

“Did you, at least, find anything on the witch?” Dean asked as he opened the door and got into the driver’s seat.

“No,” Sam replied, climbing in next to his brother. “But I did find out about the red soil.”

“What red soil?”

Sam filled in Dean over what had happened at the morgue last evening. The hex bags, the red soil, everything.

“Turns out all of those victims had all been to this same place- an excavation on the outskirts of the town. They are digging it up for a nature in trail in the forest fringes. The first victim, Jonathan Egbert was a supervisor for the project. The second, Natasha Williamson was a photographer. She used to visit the forest for pictures.”

“What about the kid?” Dean was paying attention to Sam, but the Impala was running faster than usual as he willed her towards the school.

“It used to be a make out spot before the operation started, I’m willing to bet Aaron here frequented it, too.”

“That still doesn’t explain why they’re rounding up the witnesses now.”

“Beats me,” Sam sighed.

They drove in silence for a while. Dean glanced at his brother to find him staring outside the window lost in thought, frowning slightly. He knew Sam well enough to know that something was bothering him.

“Spit it out,” Dean said.

“Spit what out?”

“Whatever you’re thinking about.”

Sam hesitated, and Dean knew it had something to do with him. Something Sam wanted to talk about but he was afraid how Dean would take it.

“C'mon, tell me,” Dean urged.

Sam narrowed his eyes for a moment, deciding whether or not to say it, before speaking carefully. “What happened between Y/N and you?”

“What?” Dean’s head snapped to look at his brother. Of the all the things he had expected Sam to be thinking about, this wasn’t one. The car slowed down a notch as Dean collected his thoughts.

Sam put his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Hey, don’t get me wrong. I know you don’t like it when I bring her up, but I can’t help wondering, man. What the hell went wrong? The two of you were so good for each other. Then suddenly she just upped and left?”

Dean looked straight ahead, his eyes boring into the road ahead of him as he revved up the engine again. He had avoided this very question for years like the plague. What was he even going to tell Sam?

_Dean could feel her before he even opened his eyes. The soft light filtering through the curtains of the motel room window only made him want to pull her closer and go back to sleep. But as amazing as feeling her naked skin against his was, Dean knew seeing her serene face would be even more amazing. He opened his eyes to find her fast asleep against his chest. She was curled up at his side, her arm lightly draped over his waist while her soft Y/H/C hair was spread in a halo across the pillow and over his face._

_Dean brushed them off his eyes, so he could take a better look at her. She was stunning. His bones felt like they were melting when he thought back to last night. Her lips had been all over his heated skin. Dean remembered wanting to hold her closer, and doing just that all night long. It hadn’t been enough. Truthfully, he simply couldn’t believe last night had happened. It made him feel like he was floating in bliss and scared the hell out of him at the same time._

_Sometime last night, when he was kissing her, she had stopped to giggle against his lips, her warm breath fanning his face, and Dean had realized just how much he loved her. She had trusted him so implicitly and now he couldn’t possibly think of a life without her being in it._

_Somehow she had turned a terrible night into the best night of his life. Looking at her now, Dean wanted to believe in her, believe that Sam was coming back just as she had said he would. After all Sam leaving had been a shock to her, too, and if she could cope with it so well, have so much hope, so could he._

_She stirred then, slowly opening her eyes._

_“Hey beautiful,” Dean smiled. Y/N promptly shut her eyes back, screwing them tightly and threw her hands over them._

_“Hey? What happened?” Dean asked, bewildered by her reaction._

_“I think I’m dreaming,” she said, trying to keep the smile off her voice. “There’s a really hot guy in my bed and he’s naked. I don’t ever wanna wake up!”_

_Dean chuckled. God, she was perfect. The best thing in his damned life._

_“Oh, it’s real alright,” he said, shifting so that she was pinned beneath him. He slowly pried her hands away from her eyes, and pressed his lips against hers. “It’s very real!”_

_She sighed happily, before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him back. Dean couldn’t believe his luck._

_A sharp beeping noise from her mobile made her jump, and Dean laughed, rolling over so she could reach out. “Dang it!” He cursed, making her giggle._

_Dean watched as she unlocked the screen and frowned a little while reading the text. Drawing a deep breath, she quickly typed a reply and put the cell aside. Dean watched as she rose up, stretching her gloriously naked body, and threw her legs down. Just when she rose up, Dean reached across to catch her hand, making her stop in her tracks._

_“Come back to bed.” He looked up at her, smug about the shy expression which crept up her face at his words._

_She swatted his hand away, before he could grab it fully and made a run for the bathroom. He could still hear the sound of her soft laughter till it was drowned by the shower._

_Dean lay on his stomach across the bed for a while, staring after her with a goofy grin on his face._

_Another beep from Y/N’s phone sounded right next to his ear from where she had left it. Dean grabbed the phone with the intention of putting it on the bedside table when the name flashing on the screen caught his attention._

_***1 message from Sam*** _

_Dean didn’t even think about it, as he unlocked the phone. He knew what the message was going to be about. It would be Sam telling Y/N what had happened. Explaining his side. But right now Dean would do with just about anything to know about his brother._

_A message from him meant Sam was, at least, safe. Wherever he was, he was going to be fine. Any news of his brother would be good news._

_Of course Y/N wouldn’t mind, Dean thought as he opened the message._

_***Sam: Thanks, Y/N. Thanks for being there. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.*** _

_At first Dean didn’t understand what was going on. He read the words over and over again, his mind refusing to understand and accept the obvious. He quickly checked the sentbox to find Y/N’s message, the one she had sent while laying in bed next to him._

_***Y/N: He’s fine, Sam. Go, be you! All the love- Y/N.*** _

_Dean went back to the inbox and scrolled up, reading months and months of messages. Messages about Sam preparing of the SATs, about him obsessing and then worrying over his applications, him rejoicing over acceptances and scholarships. Sam had driven out to see Y/N when he had cracked his way into Stanford. They had celebrated. Y/N knew._

_Y/N knew Sam was going to leave him, leave dad and leave their family. She had known all along, and not once had she said a word about this to Dean._

_When Y/N stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her, that beautiful, bashful expression still graced her face. She was still smiling mischievously. The smile slid from her face the moment she saw Dean standing by the bed completely dressed, his face devoid of any expression._

_“Dean?” She asked softly, reaching out for him, but he stepped back from her, his eyes flashing._

_He could see it in her face that she was confused, hurt even, that she had no idea what to make of him, but Dean just couldn’t let himself be touched by her. He had been betrayed by the two people he loved the most._

_“Sam says he is thankful for all that you’ve done for him,” Dean hissed, lifting up his hand to show her the phone._

_“Dean, no!” She gasped, her eyes filling up with tears, as understanding came to her._

_“The two of you can have a laugh about this, me, at some point.” Dean flung the phone across the bed, where it hit the headboard and promptly split into pieces._

_“Dean, listen to me,” she begged. “It wasn’t like that!”_

_“Then what was it like? Huh?” He yelled. “I saw all the messages, Y/N. You knew from the start and you kept it from me.”_

_“I didn’t want to,” she whimpered. “Sam just… I promised him…”_

_“Sam’s a selfish son of a bitch! He didn’t care about dad, he didn’t care about me. All he cared about was himself… And apparently you.”_

_Y/N only cried harder. She was clutching at the towel which was bundled up beneath neck, her wet hair dripping water on to the floor._

_“So, that’s it then,” Dean gritted his teeth. Y/N wasn’t denying any of it. She didn’t care for him either. Just like Sam hadn’t. Dean could see in that moment- why his dad had asked Sam to leave and never come back. Because it hurt. It hurt too fucking much to be betrayed like this. And now Dean knew._

_He turned to leave, but Y/N grabbed his hand. “Don’t, Dean… Just listen to me… Don’t leave me…” She managed between the sobs._

_Dean shirked his hand away, not even looking at her._

_“Go find Sam. He’ll listen to you. I thought you cared for me, but looks like all you cared for was to be a better sibling to Sam, because clearly I wasn’t enough for him.”_

_Y/N’s hand flew to her mouth and she broke down, falling to ground, crying too hard to be able to speak._

_Dean walked over and yanked his coat from the top of the chair where she had put it the night before, walking over her clothes that had been strewn last night._

_“Don’t go please,” she whispered. The pain in her voice made Dean around. Y/N was crying incessantly on the floor. Seeing her, his resolve waivered just for a second, his love for the girl raging a battle against what she had done. He had promised her he would protect her, but try as he might, he couldn’t get Sam’s words out of his head. **‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’** It was making him see red._

_That decided it for him._

_"I can’t stay. I just don’t want to see you!” Dean’s voice was icy as he walked out of the room, slamming the door so hard behind him that the frames rattled in his wake. The image of her, sitting helplessly on the floor, covered in a wet towel, begging for him to stay with outstretched hand burning behind his eyes as he walked away._

“I know you loved her, Dean, and from what I know, she loved you, too,” Sam’s voice brought Dean back to the now. 

“I don’t know about that, Sammy,” Dean grunted. He wasn’t going to tell Sam what exactly was the reason for the fight. Dean had been angry, but he had also been an ass.

It hadn’t been Y/N’s fault that Sam had wanted to go off on his own, in fact, if it hadn’t been for her, Sam would have tangentially headed in a completely different direction, and the ultimate fight between him and dad wouldn’t have been pretty. She had been a good friend to him, supportive and loyal. For that Dean had left crying alone in a dank motel room. In the grand scheme of events, the reason for the fight felt so damn petty to Dean, that every time he thought of it, he wanted to kick himself in the gut. He had cooled down to be able to think rationally within a couple of weeks, but by then it had been too late. She was gone. She had burned every sim, every possible link to find her and vanished. She had kept his word for him. He’d never see her since. Not really, anyway.

He wasn’t about to tell Sam that her love for him was the reason for their fight. Sam didn’t need that on his conscience over everything else.

“I was twenty-two and I was an idiot. That was the reason. I said some things I shouldn’t have and now it’s too late to take it back.” Dean wished he could go back and change it all. Fall down on his knees and beg her to take him back, like she had begged him to not leave.

“Maybe it’s not,” Sam said more to himself than to Dean; there was a hope in his eyes. Dean didn’t want to see it. He knew all about the trackers Sam had going, he just never gave up.

“It’s too late, and it was my fault. Y/N deserved better than me. I hope she is happily married with a kid somewhere.” Even as he said it, the mere idea hurt more than Dean could possibly put into words. It hurt that she wasn’t here right next to him. It hurt unbearably.

“It’s not late,” Sam mumbled. “And it’s my fault.”

Dean knew what was coming before Sam said it.

“I tracked her down, Dean. You know I did. I left her a message asking her to find us when… when you were going to hell.”

Dean still remembered it like yesterday, seeing her for a split second through the red haze as the hell hounds ripped through him. He could still hear her bloodcurdling scream, as she yelled for him. The absolute horror in her eyes as she had watched him die. He dreamt of it sometimes. Her obvious pain in the moment made him believe that she might have still loved him then. It had made dying that much harder, to know that she had been at arm’s reach from him and yet he couldn’t touch her, couldn’t stay with her, couldn’t tell her how much he loved her.

When he’d come back, he had asked Sam where she was, he’d been yearning to meet her. A part of him suspected that her memories, memories of that one night, that had kept his soul human through all the torments of hell. She was the one whom he had clung to- his connections to all that was good in him.

Y/N hadn’t been there. She had left believing him to be dead. Dean thought it was the best thing that could have happened to her. He didn’t deserve her, never had. But one question had always tugged at his mind.

“Why didn’t you stop her? After… after I died.”

“I tried,” Sam said, his eyes sad and distant. “I tried to stop her, but she seemed afraid of me somehow. I was mad, Dean. I was mad and so full of vengeance that I didn’t even realise when she left. I think she saw it before anyone- that anger. The one that Ruby fueled. Y/N knew I was dangerous the moment she looked into my eyes. She knew it wasn’t really me in there anymore.”

“Smart chick, that one,” Dean laughed a mirthless laugh. She always had been.

They drove in silence, each lost in his own thoughts, wondering what Y/N would be like now, whether or not she would still be like _his_ Y/N.

Before Dean knew it, he had driven into the school premise. He dropped Sam at the entrance so he could talk to the authorities regarding Aaron’s records, while Dean drove around to the parking lot

A crowd had gathered right in the middle of it, making it impossible to put the car in park. Dean honked loudly twice, but the crowd didn’t budge.

“What the hell?” He muttered to himself, stepping out of the car and making his way through the crowd. The scene that unfolded before his eyes as he walked to the front of the line was disheartening. A girl was standing in the middle of the circle, crying into her hands. All her books were strewn across the asphalt, her bag ripped along the sides. Two boys stood on the other side laughing at her, while she sobbed. When she moved her hand to wipe her tears, Dean caught a glimpse of her face. It was Sam, and she had the most heartbreaking and lost expression on her face.


	8. Chapter 8

**Dean’s POV:**

For a few minutes Dean couldn’t comprehend what was happening. Was she angry, was she hurt? Why was all her stuff scattered like that? Did she trip and fall down? Dean was suddenly worried whether she had hurt herself.

Then the silence broke as one of the boys- the one with light brown hair- let out a cackle of insensitive laughter. “Why you cryin’ now? Like you didn’t know!”

“Of course, she did!” The other one leered. He was lanky and had greasy, black hair. “She knows how weird she is. She knows she’s the _freak.”_

“You heard what she was sayin’ right?” the first one prompted. “Purple light killed Aaron,” he mimicked in a high pitched voice that did not resemble Sam’s quiet, melodious one at all. She just stood there, staring defiantly up at them.

“We all know _what_ put that crap in her head,” Greasy hair continued. “If she ever bothered to get her head out of those fat books, she’d see the world for what it really is.” He looked straight at her. “You might actually look good if you ditched those stupid t-shirts and put some make up on.”

“Just learn a lil’ from that mother of yours,” leered the short one. “Sleepin’ round like she does, you could’ve picked up a few tricks, nerd.”

“Course her father disappeared!” The two of them burst into a bought of cruel laughter.

A sob ripped free of Sam’s chest. She turned on her heel to run away, but in the next second, found her face pressed into a warm softly clothed chest. Dean saw her jerk back for a bit before her eyes met his. When they did, her watery emeralds into his fiery green, instead of pushing away, she threw her arms around his waist and clung to him, fisting her fingers into the back of his suit. She turned her face into him and broke down completely.

Dean felt as though his insides were melting the moment the girl buried her face in his chest. It was nothing like anything he’d ever felt before. The strongest urge to protect her, to hide her from the cruel, cruel world overcame him, and his hands instinctively enveloped around her. The aftermath of the feeling left him reeling. The anger he could understand, the protectiveness, too, but the possessive edge and the tenderness he felt towards her, both shocked and shook him.

“Hey, shhhh…” he softly whispered in her ear. “It’s gonna be alright. It’s gonna be okay.”

Sam only hugged him tighter, clinging to him. Dean found himself comforting her despite the havoc in his own head. This girl didn’t deserve to be treated like this. She was smart and sweet and loving. She shouldn’t have to cry like that.

Dean lowered his head so only she could hear him. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” Sam, however, shook her head, unwilling to let him go.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here, next to you. Let me go have a talk with them.”

“No, don’t,” her breath hitched. “They’ll say mean things about you, too.”

“They can try.” Dean leveled his gaze with the taller of the two, the greasy haired idiot. He seemed to be taken aback, but was still staring at Dean sullenly.

Dean could feel all eyes on the two of them and he was sure so could she, but Sam held on, hiding in his chest, from the judgment everyone seemed to be exuding. She was trusting him to protect her. That decided it for him.

Dean gently pried Sam’s fingers off his coat, but didn’t let go of her hand as he took a few strides forwards. Sam tried to hold him back, but Dean’s grip was firm. She needed to see this.

He made his way towards the boys, both of them seemed to be older than eighteen. Either they were drop outs, or part of the community college that shared the same building. From the condition of her things and the way she seemed to massaging her shoulder, it wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened. They’d either held her hard, or yanked the bag with enough force to hurt.

“Who are you Mister?” Greasy hair wheezed. He seemed to be the bigger bully of the two. “The new guy her mother is banging?”

Sam’s grip on Dean’s hand tightened painfully. He could feel her shaking besides him. She seemed to cringe a little, but Dean held on, refusing to let go.

He strode forward and in a swift motion tugged at the collar of the kid, pushing him into the adjacent wall, hard enough to sting, but not actually cause damage.

The boy let out a strangled cry as his head hit the surface.

“Doesn’t matter who I am,” Dean growled. “What matters is what I can do, you slimy son of a bitch. You touch her again, and I’ll break your sorry face.”

The guy whimpered pathetically against Dean’s grip, clutching at his throat, trying to find a way out. Dean did not budge.

“Am I clear?” He snarled loudly, and the boy nodded pitifully.

“I would ask you to apologize to her, but you don’t deserve to so much as look at her, forget about talking to her. Her mom’s done a great job raising a kid like that. Your folks don’t seem to have gotten it through that thick skull of yours. Now get lost.”

Dean released his grip and the boy collapsed on the asphalt floor, coughing and gasping for air. The other kid had disappeared.

Dean turned to the by standing crowd. “Shows over, get out,” he called, voice icier than usual. The kids didn’t need to be told twice. Within a couple of minutes the parking lot was empty.

Sam was still clutching Dean’s hand, quietly crying into the other one.

“Shhh… it’s alright, C'mere,” Dean said, gently pulling her back into his arms. “Those kids are dicks, don’t listen to that bullshit. You’re so much better than any of them. You get me?”

She didn’t react, just burrowed deeper, and there was that feeling again. A warm ache in his chest that Dean couldn’t put a name to. This felt too pure somehow, holding her this way. Dean couldn’t help but remember when he was young and small Sam used to hug him on stormy nights when they were alone in motel rooms. For the life of him Dean couldn’t figure out why he was suddenly so nostalgic. It hurt in an oh so sweet way, but Dean never wanted to be rid of this feeling.

He gently pushed her back and brought his hand up to cup her face. She seemed unwilling to look at him, like she was suddenly embarrassed. Dean held on, until she looked up, her beautiful eyes shy. “You get me, right? You’re awesome. You should be proud of yourself.”

At long last she nodded, and Dean smoothened the blonde locks away from her eyes. “That’s good,” he smiled at her encouragingly. “You wanna sit down for a bit and tell me what that was about?” She nodded once more.

“Alright,” Dean said, guiding her to a bench nearby. “You sit here, I’ll be back with your stuff.”

She was quick to interrupt. “No… No… I’ll get it.”

“No, you won’t,” Dean stated firmly. “You sit. I’ll go get it.”

He made his way towards the torn bag and its strewn contents. Most of it was huge books- SATs, physics, Economics. They weren’t course books, but much more advanced. Along with those there were couple novels- Oscar Wilde and Jane Austen. Those idiots must have yanked the bag hard and because of the full to brim contents, it must have split immediately. Dean looked back at Sam. She was rubbing her shoulders, eyeing him anxiously. He smiled reassuringly at her, as he collected all her stuff, even the markers, pens, and chocolate wrappers.

When Dean got to the bottom of the things, he found a worn out College flyer… For Stanford Law.

Really? Stanford Law? Dean thought to himself. That was a weird-ass coincidence.

After collecting all the books, Dean balanced them in one hand, and stooped to grab the torn bag. The fabric was full of all sorts of doodle- quotes from Southern movies, anime, manga, symbols… everything. It was eclectic and fascinating. Dean found himself turning it over to notice that the handles were made of pure silver. He smirked to himself as he remembered Sam pushing them against his skin that first night when he had picked her up. That kid was really smart and for some weird reason Dean felt proud about it. She had been raised right.

When he reached the bench, his shoe caught against a stone and the books tumbled out of his hands once more, cascading over the girl in front of him. She winced as the books hit her head and fell over her feet.

Dean was about to apologize, but a peal of laughter left her, as she giggled at his antics.

“You’re such a _butterfingers,”_ she managed in between her laughs.

Dean found his heart melting at the sound of her laughter. It was _precious._ She bent down and retrieved her books, neatly stacking them on one side. She picked the Stanford flyer last and carefully placed it in between the thickest of books.

“So Law school, huh?” Dean asked, intrigued, as he took a seat next to her.

She wriggled her hands in her lap, not quite meeting his eyes, “Ummm yeah.”

“That’s awesome,” Dean told her, his voice sounded happy even to him.

“You aren’t going to tell me I’m too young or something?" 

"Nope!” He replied. “I know you’re really smart. You can do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” She looked up through her lashes, shy again.

“Whatever you want,” Dean repeated, simply. There was a conviction in his words because he truly believed in them.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’m almost sixteen, but I’ve taken all the classes, even the advanced one, so I’m graduating this year. I’m giving my SATs in a couple of weeks and I really want to get into Stanford pre-law.”

The fact that she was advanced didn’t surprise Dean whatsoever. “Why Stanford?”

“When I was a kid, my mom told me it’s where smart people go,” she shrugged.

“Well, I ain’t contesting with your mom.”

They sat in silence for a while. Dean was lost in his own thoughts until he saw her rubbing at her shoulders again, and anger flashed through him. He willed himself to control his tone before asking. “You wanna tell me what that was about?” He gestured towards the spot where she’d stood crying.

Sam seemed to retreat back into her shell and the wriggling of fingers resumed. Just when Dean thought she was going to ask him to butt out, she spoke in a small voice. "Those idiots used to be high school last year. I think they were friends with Aaron or something. I don’t know what their problem is, but they call me names all the time. They call me ugly and stuff…” her voice trailed off.

If Dean was angry before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. Anyone would have to be blind to call her ugly. She was perfect.

“Don’t listen to them,” Dean’s voice was more insistent that he had intended it to be. “You’re beautiful and smart. I meant it when I said they don’t deserve to even look at you.”

“Really?” her cheeks were tinged with pink as she looked up at him.

“Hell yeah! You’re too good.”

She looked down, blushing an even deeper shade of red now.

“It’s not that though,” she said after a while. “I don’t care what they say about me. It doesn’t matter. But they say awful stuff about my mom, and none of it is true.”

“If none of it is true, then why does it bother you so much?" 

"Because it’s on the opposite fudging end from reality, that’s why!” She huffed.

“What do you mean?” Dean’s curiosity was at its peak. He had to admit that he was intrigued by her mother. She definitely knew her way around the territory, and judging from how she had raised her daughter, she seemed to be sensible and kind.

“I mean everyone judges her because she’s so young. She had me when she was only 18, and she’s really gorgeous. There’s always a couple guys loitering outside the flower shop she owns, hoping to ask her out. She never heeds all the attention.”

“All this talk seems to be a case of sour grapes then,” Dean mused.

“It is. She’s so nice, and she rarely even dates. Just because of how she looks, people say such horrible stuff about her,” Sam said bitterly.

“Well then the people here are dicks,” Dean stated. His ‘matter of fact’ tone made Sam giggle. Dean’s very bones softened. She was truly a lovely child. And the way she had described her mother, Dean could see where she got it from.

Dean didn’t want to assume, yet, he couldn’t help but wonder what happened to Sam’s father. A man would have to be a total jackass to leave a beautiful family like that.

“Don’t worry about the jerks, kiddo. I’m sure your mom is happy enough to have you.”

“She is,” Sam smiled wistfully. “She’s my best friend. I love her so much. She hasn’t had it easy, you know. We used to be constantly moving till I was about seven years old, never stopping in a place for more than a couple of weeks, like someone was chasing us or something. She’d leave for a few of hours to get food and return bloody a lot of times. Mom never talks about those days even if I ask, but I can see the scars sometimes. It’s only been about six or seven years since we’ve settled here. That’s why I want to become a lawyer. So I can make her proud.”

“Where was your dad in all this?” The question just tumbled out his mouth. Dean regretted it the moment he said it out loud. It was personal, and definitely prying on his part. It looked like Sam’s mom had been through hell. Gang maybe?

Sam, thankfully, seemed unperturbed by the question. “He died when I was a baby,” she said, a distinct note of pride in her voice. “My mom says he was a hero and he died trying to save someone. She said he loved me.” Her voice became melancholy by the end. “I never knew him.”

“I’m sure he’d be proud of the young lady you’ve become,” Dean told her. Sam smiled up at him.

“Yeah, my mom says so, too.” A sudden light illuminated her eyes and she giggled excitedly. “You know what? You should meet her!”

“Who? Your mom?" 

"No, the Queen of England,” she sassed. “Of course, I mean my mom! You two are so similar. Tell you what, you should totally go out on a date with her.”

“Whoa, Kid!” Dean said, taken aback by her sudden enthusiasm. “I’m not the dating sort. I won’t be in the town longer than this case.” Even as he said it, Dean couldn’t help but feel a little sad at the thought of not seeing Sam again.

“Oh, she isn’t the dating type either,” she gave him a naughty smile. Whatever that was supposed to mean. “Just go out once. How could it possibly harm? It’ll be fun!”

Dean thought about it and decided it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He wasn’t staying long and Sam’s mom intrigued him anyway. He could meet her.

“Alright,” Dean acquiesced, “but on one condition.”

“What?” Her smile faltered a little.

Dean grinned. “That we’ll remain friends no matter how that turns out.” He extended his calloused hand. “Friends?”

A huge grin spread across her face as she slid a delicate hand forward and shook Dean’s firmly. “Friends!”

Dean noticed a silver anti-possession charm and witch repelling amulet dangling from her bracelet. Yes, meeting her mom would be _interesting_ to say the least.

“It’s a deal then!”

* * *

**Sam’s POV:**

To say Sam was tired was a massive understatement. He was used to staying up late nights, working cases, or researching for them, but this one seemed to be somehow taking a toll on him. As much as he might refuse to accept it, Sam knew the reason. He knew it was the hope that pulling him down. No, it wasn’t the hope, it was the effort of trying to keep it squished that was so exhausting. All night long he had dreamt of Y/N’s face as she had looked at him with terror in her eyes on the night that Dean had died. Sam had been consumed by a homicidal rage, so frenzied by the need for revenge that he hadn’t even cared for his long lost best friend. If only he could just find her once and tell her just how sorry he was, how desperately he wanted her back in his life… in _both_ their lives.

At least, one thing had turned out to in their favor. Aaron used to visit that particular red-soiled make out spot after all, so now they knew where to begin their search.

Sam walked around the campus, trying to find his brother. Going through the filing had taken a while, so he did not expect Dean to be hanging around in the parking lot. Sam, however, didn’t know where to start looking and the parking lot seemed as good a place as any.

He was still mulling over the case-files, trying his best to keep his mind off other stuff, when he rounded around the corner and the most unexpected scene met his eyes. Dean was sitting on the park bench next to a young girl who was facing away from Sam. She had thick, long blonde hair. From what he could see, Dean was holding her hand, and the two of them were laughing about something.

This was _that_ girl, the one Dean couldn’t stop talking about. The girl who was the reason for all of his brother’s smiles lately. Sam increased the tempo of steps and soon he was close enough to catch his brother’s attention. Dean grinned the moment he saw Sam, turning to the girl besides him.

“Sam,” he told the girl, a goofy, proud smile splitting his face, “Meet _Sam_. He’s my brother and nerd extraordinaire. You two will get along.”

The girl turned around and Sam’s breath caught in his throat. Those eyes, those bright green, brilliant eyes were the ones he could never not notice. He saw them every day of his life.

“You’re kidding!” She turned back to face Dean. “Your name is Dean, and your brother’s name is Sam? What the hell?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Dean asked, and she checked herself, shrugging nonchalantly. Dean seemed to buy it, but to Sam, her expression seemed _too_ perfect, as if she was putting an extra effort into keeping it in place.

“Hey, Dean, why don’t you pick up the files from the office? I think I might have left a couple of them on the desk. Get the car while you’re coming back.”

“Sure thing.” Dean winked at the girl once, before walking out of the lot on the other side.

“So?” Sam asked.

“So?” She replied in the same tone. He couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“Your name’s Violet Y/L/N, isn’t it?”

“How do you know?” She immediately sounded wary.

“I read your name in the files,” Sam said lightly, but his heart was hammering against his ribs. He didn’t know what else to say. The girl was peeking up at him while trying to be furtive about it.

“You’re tall,” she said out of the blue, and then blushed instantly.

“I get that a lot,” Sam said, taking a seat next to her. That’s when he saw the stack of thick books. The Stanford flyer sticking out at one end didn’t miss Sam’s attention.

“Hey, if your name’s Violet, why does your mother call you _Sam?”_ He asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

“How do you know it’s my mother who came up with the name?” She narrowed her eyes.

Damn! The girl was too smart for her own good. “Uhhh… it’s a guess,” He smiled weakly.

“Well, yeah,” she continued, seemingly over her suspicion. “My mom said the name’s for good luck. All Sams are smart.”

_‘All Sams are smart.’_

“Uhhh yeah,” Sam somehow managed through his constricted throat. He was saved from saying anything else as the Impala cruised to a stop right in front of them.

The girl jumped with glee at the sight of the car.

“I think I’m in love with your car!” She squealed, running a hand over the glossy metal body, sighing happily. Dean got out and nodded proudly.

“Me, too.”

Dean handed her his card. “Call me if you ever need anything, okay? And I mean anything at all.”

She took the card and looked up at him. “You remember the deal right, Deano?”

“Sure do, Shorty,” he smiled. 

“Hey, Dean,” Violet called. In the next split second she was sprinting towards him.

And like it was the most obvious, most instinctual thing, Dean opened his arms, the girl slamming into his embrace, closing her eyes the moment her cheek pressed into his chest. Dean in turn held her tight, running his hand over her back.

Sam saw the satisfied smile on his brother’s face, the absolute adoration with which he held her. Dean pecked Violet lightly on her forehead and she seemed to relax in his hold, both clearly unwilling to let go first. The picture was perfect and surreal.

Sam rolled his eyes upwards, willing the tears pressing his eyes to not roll down, praying for strength so they could face what was obviously coming their way, but most of all trying to behold the absolute jubilation he felt in the moment. How? _How_ had Dean not realized that he was holding his own daughter in his arms?


	9. Chapter 9

It was a slow morning, the slowest you'd had in a while. Just Mrs. Henley and a couple other customers. You knew you should be working. Jessie, the girl you had employed was sure working her ass off today, thanks to a couple of weddings scheduled in the week after. You should be handling all the paperwork, calling up and confirming with all your suppliers, but you just couldn't. Even though the morning had started out serene, as the minutes had passed, you'd only gotten more and more restless. It mostly had to do with the fact that you couldn't figure out where the red soil came from. What you needed was a quiet night of research, which was hard to get by.

Then there was the matter of finding Sam. You had spent so many years clinging to the image of your best friend from sixteen years ago, just so you could forget the look in his eyes, the mad anger in them the night Dean had died, that now facing him seemed impossible.

What if he had gotten worse? Become the heartless, thoughtless killer he was destined to be? Hunters were known to off rails even without Sam's history. This was the crux of your problem. Your obstinate mind refused to let go of the image of puppy-eyed Sammy; the one who had loved you like his own blood.

You didn't think you could survive through seeing a man who was so much different than that nerdy guy. So much for the steadfast denial.

_This is what you get for running from your feelings, Y/N!_

You were so lost in thought, you never heard the bell tinker as the door to the shop opened.

Someone rapped their fingers annoyingly against the table in front of you, making you jump.

"Hey, Darling," Ethan drawled, giving you a flirty look. You wanted to groan.

"Hello," you said, plastering a fake, over-bright smile. This was your workplace, you couldn't really afford to be rude to people who stepped in.

"Where'd you run off last night?" He demanded, examining the nails of his fingers.

"Violet wasn’t feeling well and you seemed to be too busy at work," you smiled weakly.

"Some FBI douche wanted to see the bodies, asking all sorts of questions, trying to be superior to me. He made me reopen all the evidences, as if he understood things better than me. You know how it's busy at work. It's not as easy as running a flower shop."

The dig about the flower shop didn't even register, you were too busy trying to digest the fact that he'd called Sam a douche. Whatever qualms you might have about Sam was your problem, but an idiot like Ethan didn't get to call him names. Besides, you'd heard them talk, Sam had been perfectly polite.

"So," he leered, putting on a roguish grin. "What're you doing tonight?"

"Laundry," you answered without a thought.

"Oh, c'mon, Y/N/N, you know you love riding in my car…"

It was an overrated Nissan that he inherited from a late uncle… It was nothing compared to…

"C'mon, baby," he tried again. "I know you wanna come over and-"

His sentence was cut short as the door opened again and Vi came bounding in. "Mom, mom! You wouldn't believe what’s happening down the street!" Her voice was shrill. She was definitely putting on a show. "Those gang of kids from downtown are vandalizing this blue Sedan parked down the block. Can you believe that?" She let out a sigh, then turned towards Ethan, acting all surprised, and said in a perfectly pleasant voice. "Oh hello, Mr. Riggs! It's so nice to see you here." 

But Ethan had no time for her. He uttered a few choice curse words and ran out of the shop like a bat out of hell.

The two of you burst into howls of laughter, nearly falling to the ground.

"What did you do?" You asked her when you could finally catch some breath.

"Oh, I didn't do anything… _lasting_. Just let the air out of the tires… all four," she winked. "I saw him getting out of that car and walking towards the shop. Decided to take matters into my hands. So needless to say, dear Mr. Riggs is gonna be busy getting his beloved car towed all afternoon today."

"You're a blessing!" you told her, which was true. She had been a blessing since day one.

"Why don't you just tell him to butt out?"

"Well, for one, I can't be rude to customers. The other, I have a sinking suspicion that our deal with the morgue isn't done yet."

Vi sighed dramatically. "But you don't have to pretend to go out with him."

"Oh trust me, I'm not. I can't help it if Ethan's a delusional ass."

Your daughter giggled. The way she was twirling a fringe of hair, you could see that there was something on her mind.

"Spill," you told her, picking out the folders you had to work on.

"What? Nothing!" She shrugged, hamming it up just a bit. 

You knew she'd tell you whatever it was when she wanted to. You changed the subject. "What’re you doing here so early?"

"I decided to ditch school."

"Excuse me?" You turned to look up at her with incredulous eyes. "I begged you all of last month to ditch school for half a week so we could take our yearly trip to Florida. You refused because you wanted to study for the SATs. I begged, and I groveled. I offered lifetime's worth servitude, and you, young lady, refused all of that. What may I ask prompted this?" 

"Oh, stop being so melodramatic," she waved her hand towards you. "It was a boring day, and they can't teach me anything that I already don't know." It was true.

"Besides, I wanted to see you," she finished.

"You know I'm cool with ditching. It's always been my dream to make up fun little impossible scenarios for why my kid didn't go to school," you laughed. "But you could’ve told me. I'd have taken the day off and we could've done something fun. We never do fun stuff anymore. You're always studying," you pouted.

"About that," Vi said slowly. "I have a proposition for you."

"Ooohhh… a proposition," you grinned, placing you head over your hands on top of the counter. "Let me get my lawyer."

"C'mon, mom, I'm serious."

"Alright!" You said, giving her your undivided attention. "What is it?"

"I'll take the next weekend off studying… All of Saturday and Sunday, and we can take a road trip to wherever you want."

Narrowing your eyes, you peered at her. You knew your kid. If she was willing to relinquish an entire weekend so close to exams, she must want something huge from you. "In return you propose?"

"In return," she raised her head dramatically, "I propose that you agree to go on a blind date with the person of my choosing."

You groaned, banging your head against the table. "Pass." 

"Oh C'mon, mom! You don't even know the guy."

"Which is my point, baby."

"It'll be fun. I know him, he's awesome. At least, meet him once," Violet insisted. "Do you really wanna be associated with guys like Ethan all your life?"

You knew she brought up his name just to instigate you, but it worked anyway. "Hell NO!"

"So try it my way once… pleaseee… PLEASEEEEE…"

"Don't give me puppy dog eyes, Sammy," you sighed. "Alright, what's his name?"

She seemed to be deep in thought for a while. "Nope, I'm not telling you. It's a surprise. In fact, I'm not telling you anything. Just tell me when you’ll be free?"

"You can't just set me up with _anybody."_

"Trust me just this once. He's _perfect_ for you." Violet smiled wide like the Cheshire cat.

You gave in.

"Fine. Tonight at 8." You didn't have to specify the place; there was only one fine-dine in the town. "But remember the deal about the weekend." 

One date wouldn't be much, would it? If it meant that Vi could get a couple days off, it would be worth it. She was putting so much pressure on herself, she deserved a respite, whether or not she wanted one. It would probably be neighbor Dave anyway. Violet didn't know anyone you didn't.

"Alright, I'll text him," she said, excitedly typing on her phone. "Oh, he'll be the guy with a white rose on his table." You nodded your head in her general direction.

"I can wait here and study till you close up, then we can get you ready for the thing," she chattered on in the background as you resumed your work, rechecking the schedule in the files.

It was only a question of one night. How bad could it possibly be?

* * *

Sam sighed, rubbing his face as he shut the thick volume before him. His eyes were roaming over the words, but he couldn't take in the meaning. After leaving from the school, they had checked out the excavation spot in the woods with the red soil. There was nothing to it, the trail being completely dead. Sam didn't know what else to do and he couldn't think straight. They knew Violet was going to be fine, thanks to the witch repelling charm she wore on her bracelet, so they had decided to head back to the bunker. It was less than an hour's drive away anyway. The only reason they had stayed in the town last night was because there had still been doubts to chase. Now that they had exhausted every last lead, Sam had thought it was best to head back home. He could've used some comfort right about then.

Sam knew Dean could see there was something wrong with him. While Dean couldn't keep the smile off his face, Sam's head was bustling with questions. It made his head hurt worse than ever.

Dean had retired to his room the moment they were parked in the garage, humming to himself. Later, when Sam checked, he’d been dozing lightly on his bed.

"At least, someone is getting some sleep," Sam murmured to himself, pressing his temples.

Truth be told, Sam didn't know what to make of it. He was pissed, and he wanted to be angry. How could Y/N possibly hide such a big thing from Dean? His brother had a _daughter,_ an actual child, and he had no freaking idea about it. How could Y/N do this to him?

But Sam couldn't even be angry. He had calculated back and Y/N had to have had Violet when Sam was in first year at Stanford. Even if had no idea what was happening with her life now, he definitely knew Y/N back then. _That_ Y/N would never do this to Dean. Ever.

 _So what happened?_ He had to get Dean to talk, he had to know what the hell had that fight been about. Sam didn't even know his brother had ever gotten together with her. But those were way too many coincidences. A "Violet Y/L/N" whose mother called her _Sam._ A mother who was well versed with the supernatural. Then there was also the matter of Violet being the spitting image of Dean with the perfect blend of Y/N. The way she smiled, the way she wriggled her hands, the way she talked… it was all there. How could Dean have not seen it? Or maybe he had, which was why he was so drawn to her.

Y/N’s words from many, many years ago rang in Sam's ears- _"You're the smartest nerd to ever nerd. Tell you what, if I ever have a kid, I'm gonna name the kid Sam for good luck, so they'll be as smart as you."_

It's exactly what the girl had told him. That her mom called her Sam for good luck. Sam could feel his eyes starting to sting again at that thought. How could he ever be angry with Y/N? She was his best friend!

Sam dropped his head in his hands again.

"You know, if I didn't know better, I'd start thinking you were doing drugs or something."

Sam's head snapped up. He squinted at his brother who had just walked into the library, freshly dressed and ready to go. 

"Don't give me that look," Dean shook his head. "I didn't take a piss in your cheerios."

Sam's head was aching too bad to even throw his brother a bitch face.

"Seriously, Sam, get some sleep. You look like you're about to drop dead."

Sam brushed it away. "You never answered my question."

"What question?" Dean asked, pulling up a beer.

"What happened between you and Y/N?"

Dean sighed, drawing a chair and sitting next to Sam. "Why won't you let it go?"

"Because I think what she did was unfair to you." Sam's voice had a bitter edge.

"No," Dean said sharply, "What _I_ did was unfair to her."

"What’re you saying?"

"I… I was…" Dean took a deep breath to compose himself. "I went to her the night you left for Stanford. Dad was pissed and angry, and I really didn't want to be around him that night. In fact, he wanted to be on his own. So, I tracked Y/N’s phone and ended up in front of her motel room at 2 in the morning… It was a bad night. I was hurt and she was there, soft and warm and loving… Things just happened."

"I- I don't follow," Sam said. "How did _that_ make things worse?" At least, part of the mystery cleared.

"The next morning her phone beeped and I saw her messages… messages to you," Dean closed his eyes. "I flipped, Sam. I threw a fit. I was so angry at her for keeping it all from me, for going behind my back. She knew you were going away to Stanford and she didn't say a word of it to me. She begged for me to stay, on her knees, and I? I didn't even look back at her."

"You fought… because of _me?"_ Sam choked. "I'm the reason for all this mess?"

"Sam… No…" Dean shook his head.

"It wasn't her fault, Dean. She kept asking me to tell you. Every time that I saw her, every time that I hugged her, she'd push me back and remind me that you deserved a part of it, too. That you were the reason I could achieve anything at all in my life. She reminded me over and over that I had to tell you, but I was scared. I kept putting it off, I made her promise to not tell you. It wasn't her fault." Sam's voice had hollowed out by the end of it. He was the one who wrecked their lives, who wrecked Dean's and Y/N's life. It had always been him.

"It wasn't your fault, Sam," Dean insisted. "I was the jackass. She called me every day, left hundreds of messages. I didn't open a single one."

"You never forgave her?" Sam croaked.

"I wasn't going to… I was just so angry, I couldn't think straight."

"So what happened?"

"Bobby happened. I went over one evening."

_The sun was too hot outside; sweltering. Dean had ditched his shirt. Just lying in an undershirt was scorching, too. He closed his eyes, hoping for sleep, but sleep wouldn't come to him. The shuffling of feet close by made him open his eyes._

_"Here," Bobby said, handing Dean his phone. "I found it lying under the table."_

_Dean uncrossed his legs. "I don't need it, Bobby."_

_"It's been blowing up all night."_

_"I know," he replied curtly._

_"At least, open it. Maybe it's Sam. Maybe he's in trouble."_

_"Sam's not gonna call. I know who it is."_

_"And who is it?" Bobby asked._

_"What's with the Spanish inquisition, Bobby?"_

_"It's just not like you to ignore someone so bad, Dean," he pointed out gruffly. "Who is it?"_

_Dean sighed. The easiest way to get him off his back would be to tell him the truth. "It's Y/N." Even saying her name out loud hurt. Even after three weeks._

_"Y/L/N? Y/F/N Y/L/N's daughter? The hunter who died a couple months back. Weren't you… friends with her?"_

_"The same one, yeah."_

_"Hmmm…" Bobby cleared his throat. Dean could hear the clear judgment there._

_"You know what? I'm tired of this shit! I came here to get away and now you're judging me."_

_Bobby just shrugged. "I didn't say a word."_

_"No, you didn't, but I can see it. She knew about Sam leaving; for months now. And she didn't say a word to me. She lied and betrayed me."_

_"Tell me something. Are you sad that Sam left?"_

_"Of course, I'm sad that Sam left. What sort of question is that?" Dean all but yelled._

_"Ain't no use yellin’ at me, boy," Bobby raised an eyebrow. He spoke again after a moment. "Are you mad at him? Are you furious with Sam?"_

_Dean waited for a minute before answering. "No, I'm not mad at Sam. I'm happy and kinda proud actually."_

_"So what wrong did that girl do? Sam is the one who upped and left. He was the one who picked a fight with John, and left you high and dry. You should be angry with him for being a selfish son of a bitch."_

_"Why are you saying that, Bobby?" Dean shot back. "Why’re you saying stuff like that about Sam? I've had time to think over it, and I think it's good that Sam left. The kid's smart as hell. He deserves better than this stupid reckless life."_

_Bobby crossed his arms. "If you can think so much for your brother, why couldn't you think little more for that girl, ye idgit! It wasn't her secret to tell, it was Sam's. She was just being a friend. You tell me, son, if Sam had told you he was gonna quit the life, would you have made it easy for him? We both know the answer to that. Now, I know they shouldn't have kept it from you. It was wrong and stupid; but the way I see it, you're harsher on one than the other."_

_"Sam's a kid, but she… she…"_

_"Is just as old as Sam! For heaven's sake, Dean, she just lost her father. That girl is all alone out there and you left her to stew in that god awful guilt when she is at her weakest."_

_"She hurt me!"_

_"And you didn't? If you wanna stay mad at her, go ahead and be mad, it's none of my business anyway. But then be mad at both of them. You love Sam, I get it. You raised that kid, so obviously you want a better life for him. Don't be mad at her for wanting the exact same thing." Bobby turned on his heel and walked into the makeshift research room._

_Dean sat in silence, Bobby's words playing over and over in his head. It was all true though. He had been quick to forgive Sam, but not Y/N. It dawned on him that he had just always expected her to be perfect, to be this ideal girl who never made mistakes. She was human, too… By the end of the day, she was just as human as everyone else. Just because he loved her, didn't mean he had to be harsher on her. He'd forgiven Sam, but he'd left her alone out there._

_Y/N had opened up to him, and only him, in ways she'd never opened up to anyone before. She had bared it all, save that one promise which she'd kept for his brother's sake. A secret that was not hers to tell._

_Bobby was right. If she had been the one to tell Dean, he would’ve taken it out on Sam in the worse way possible. Sam would have left still, but in that case, he would have severed ties with everyone including Y/N._

_Dean opened the phone to hundreds of missed calls, double the number of messages and a few drunk voice mails. All from her. She'd tried every day for the last three weeks, doubling her efforts in the last couple days alone._

_Dean scrolled down to the very end, reading all the ‘sorrys,’ scrolling upwards to the last message that was sent 6 hours back._

**_*Dean, please, please pick up the phone. I have to talk to you, tell you something very important. I know you hate me and never want to see me again, but just listen to me this once. You need to know- Y/N*_ **

I don't hate you, Y/N, _he wanted to tell her,_ I never could.

_Her anguish and pain was palpable. She had been desperate and he hadn't heard her out._

_‘I don't want to see you,’ he'd told her, and she'd believed it. She'd believed it to the point where she was convinced that he hated her. How could he? The reason he was angry was because he loved her…so much…_

_Dean thought back to the summer on Pastor Jim's porch when he'd found Y/N upset over losing her way from school. He’d promised Y/N that he would never let anything happen to her, that he would always find her, and yet he was the one who had left her completely alone, so desperate and lost that she’d been reduced to recklessly calling and messaging him._

_Tears pressed his eyes as he frantically punched the buttons. He had to let her know that he was sorry, too. It hadn't been fair._

_*The number you're trying is currently switched off…*_

_He tried again._

_*The number you're trying is currently switched off…*_

_*The number you're trying is currently switched off…*_

_"C'mon, Y/N," he prayed. "Don't give up now. Don't you give up on me now."_

"She never tried to contact you again?" Sam asked. "Ever?"

"No," Dean replied. "I asked around and found the hotel she’d been holed up in. Found all her cell phones, cards and clothes burned in the trash bin.

"She never tried again?" Sam was incredulous. "How could she not?"

"Why would she?" Dean countered. "I was the one who cut her off first. Made it absolutely clear that I didn't want to see her."

Sam opened his mouth and closed it again, before asking. "And you? You never tried to find her?"

"I checked in once at Pastor Jim's."

"That's all?" Sam didn't know whom to be mad at here. "You just gave up on her that easily?"

"Did you not hear a word of what I've been saying? She’d been desperate Sam. Do you ever remember seeing her like that? She used to walk with her head held high, used to hold her own. If I made that much mess of her, then she’s better off without me. She deserved so much better than a guy who couldn't even take care of her."

Sam wanted to bang his head somewhere. How could he possibly explain to Dean why she had been so desperate in those last few days, without knowing the whole truth himself?

"What I don't get is why she left _you,"_ Dean said, slowly. "After I went to hell, she could have stuck around for you."

This was the only part of the story that Sam perfectly understood. If she'd had a small girl to think about, of course she ran away. Sam had been driven by revenge and revenge only. It was good that she’d disappeared. For all Sam knew, he'd have wrecked her life more than he already had.

Instead of telling Dean that, Sam sighed and changed the subject.

"Where you headed? You look dressed."

That brought a small smile back on Dean's face. "I have a date."

"A date, huh?" Sam raised his eyebrows. "With whom?"

"It's a blind date." Dean's eyes crinkled at the corners with mirth.

Sam managed to crack a teasing smile. "The dating app?" 

"Mind your own business," Dean smirked, picking up the car keys. "Don't wait up for me," he called over his shoulders as the bunker door clanged behind him.

Sam didn't even wait for a second before he was out of his chair. It was good that Dean wouldn’t be around, because Sam was heading out to find Y/N, too. He had picked Violet's file from the school records. It wouldn't be hard to find her house.

Sam had to talk to Y/N, ask her why she had quit so suddenly. From what Dean had told him, it seemed to Sam that she’d tried to tell him about the baby, and her last message wasn't even a goodbye. It was a helpless, expectant plea. So why had she stopped so suddenly? Something had changed in those last couple of days.

That decided it for Sam. He would give Dean half an hour head start before setting out to find Y/N; and find her he would, even if it was the last thing he did. He was the one who had made a mess of things, and he'd be damned if he didn't find a way to fix it.


	10. Chapter 10

_Your lungs were on fire; or was it your throat? No, it was your mind. It was distracting you, diverting your thoughts from the real problem- that your legs were giving away beneath you. You had lost track of how long you had been running. Two hours, six hours, or a day? There was no stopping. This was your life. You kept running with all of your might, willing one foot in front of another._

_No, you couldn’t stop, because if you did, you would die, and you couldn’t let that happen. Not yet. You had to live. You had to make it through one moment after another. Not for you, but for the little life strapped to your body. Violet was snoring lightly against your chest, tied securely in the rags made out of your old clothes._

_If you died, there would be no one left to protect her. They would get to her, and they would use her. So you closed your eyes, and made a ragged effort to even out your breathing._

_You needed water. The thirst was what made it feel like your throat was its own inferno, the lack of oxygen from running made your chest hurt. And your legs? You couldn’t even feel them._

_But you were close now. Once you got there, you could rest, you could sleep. There would be food for your daughter. You would live another day._

_The churches’ steep gabled roof was high enough for you to spot it from half a mile away. The bell tower filled you with hope. This was where you grew up, the church and the little house behind it. If you could make it there, father Jim would save you. You had stopped calling him pastor a long time back. He had been more than a parent to you, so he was father Jim to you now, and he would protect you no matter what. So you ran, even when every step felt like a new kind of death, you clutched the little girl tighter and ran._

_The cold steps of the church felt like ice to your bare, bloody feet. You didn’t look back at the crimson trail of footsteps you’d left in your wake. Usually father Jim would be home at this hour, but you could see that the lights of the little wooden house were dim. He must still be at the church. But as you walked along the pews, you realized that he wasn’t there either. The altar was empty, the bible looked untouched._

_An odd sense of foreboding gripped your heart. Maybe it was because now that you had stopped running, your legs felt too heavy, like they were made up of lead. Or maybe because you had never seen the church in the dark._

_You wrapped your arms firmly around Violet, as you turned left from the altar, towards the office. It was good that she’d finally managed to sleep. You were tired of lying to her, tired of answering her innocent questions about the way two of you lead your lives. It killed you to know that in the four short years of her existence, this was the only life your daughter knew. She truly thought that a life spent running was how everyone in the world lived._

_Unlike you, she wasn’t scared. She still laughed, and the sound of it was a breath of fresh air to your laboured lungs. She knew that the two of you were running, always moving. But she didn’t know that you were escaping, that you were in danger. If you had to lie to protect her innocence, to keep her from living in constant fear, you would. You did._

_The office door was slightly ajar, light flooded through the crack into the dark passageway._

_You breathed a sigh of relief, running your dry tongue over your cracked and bloody lips. He was gonna be inside and he would take care of you and your daughter. Violet will be so happy to see her grandfather tomorrow._

_You took the last couple of painful steps, ready to collapse in father Jim’s arms, and pushed the door._

_An inhuman screech left your lungs as the scene before you met your eyes. Father Jim was propped up against a chair, his neck hanging back while blood was caked on his neck and pooled on the floor underneath. Someone had slit his throat._

_“No…No…NO,” you croaked, rushing to his side and patting his cheek. “Father?” You called. Your plea sounded childishly hopeful even to you. “Father, wake up. You can’t leave me, father. Not you, too,” you whispered, voice finally extinguishing._

_“Father?” You shook him by his shoulders, and his limp head lolled to a side, dead eyes staring blankly at you._

_“No,” you cried, falling to the floor, as you slid down his side. “No, father,” you started sobbing, crying violently now, resting your head against the knee of the man you loved like your dad.“ The coarse fabric of his trousers printed pattern against your cheek as you sobbed uncontrollably. You hugged his leg tightly and curled up against the side, crying at his feet like a lost and lonely child. This was it. You were alone now. No one was going to save you._

_"Mom?” A soft and melodious voice, whispered against your chest. Violet was waking up, slowly. Confused and disoriented._

_“Shhh… baby, it’s okay,” you told her fretfully, pressing her face into your chest so she wouldn’t see the lifeless and bloody corpse of her grandfather resting above her. “We’re going to be okay.” You rocked her there, not knowing what else to do._

_“What’s wrong?” She asked sleepily._

_“Nothing. Listen to mommy very carefully, now… don’t look up, okay? Don’t open your eyes.”_

_“Okay.” She agreed. “Mom? Are you crying?”_

_“No, sweetie, Mommy’s just a little tired, and she’s feeling a bit unwell. It’s the cold.”_

_“You should sleep,” she told you sagely. “Grandpa can make you soup.”_

_You pursed your lips and bit into them to keep from crying._

_The sound of fresh footsteps echoed in the hall outside and your breath hitched. They were here. They had caught up with you._

_You quickly raised yourself to your feet, knocking the chair, and father Jim’s head hit the floor with a sickening thud._

_You looked at him one last time, before ducking out of the door and running across the width of the altar to the other side. You caught a brief glimpse of the two assailants, the two demons. They’d finally found you._

_“Are we running again?” Violet asked._

_“Shhh…” you quieted her as you slipped into the small room besides the altar. You had one advantage, you knew this place inside out. You used to hide here all the time playing hide seek and Dean would always let you win because he knew you were here. He would drop something on purpose and lead Sam towards himself so he was caught first. Dean would call attention to himself, so you could use the little trap in the wall to run out and get to the backyard of father Jim’s house. He would always help you win._

_But no one was going to help you tonight. Dean wasn’t here._

_Your heart was beating violently, like it was trying to beat out of your chest, like it understood that there were only few moments left._

_Truthfully, you were tired. You wanted to give up and stop. Stop running. Stop hiding. Just stop for a minute. But against your frantic heart, you could feel another tiny heartbeat, and it was the most precious thing in the world. It had to be protected._

_So you did not stop running. You crammed yourself through that little trap, making sure to not jostle your baby, as you stepped into the ill maintained backyard. You did not stop to spare a glance towards your favorite corner of the backyard, where you and father Jim used to make all your clumsy snowmen. You didn’t even stop to look at the back porch, to look at the steps where two teenagers used to huddle up together. The boy used to flirt ineptly and the girl would blush despite._

_You fled as fast as you could across the yard, feet not caring for the direction, not stopping as the thorns embedded themselves in your already bloody heels. You sprinted past the house and around the corner, barely noticing as your feet trampled the most beautiful hoard of violets that had ever seen the light of day._

_“Close your eyes, darling,” you cooed to the lil’ girl, steeling your heart against the onslaught of pain that had been threatening to cripple you. “It’s gonna be fine. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”_

“Mom,” a voice was calling over you. “It’s gonna be fine… it’s okay.”

Your eyes flew open, your mind sharp and attentive. Violet was looking down at you, concerned.

“You were sobbing in your sleep. Again,” She said, biting her lip.

Great! You’d worried your daughter unnecessarily. Again.

“I’m so sorry, hun,” you rubbed your eyes, breathing deeply, trying to get the erratic pounding of your heart under control.

“Why are _you_ saying sorry? You always say sorry for stupid stuff. I mean _you_ were the one crying over a nightmare. I only woke you up.”

“Yeah, but I scared you,” you breathed out, wiping the sweat.

“What was that dream about?” She asked, reading your face. “Was it about the day died?” You shook your head.

“About the day Grandpa Jim died?”

It was heartbreaking how she knew all your nightmares. You had lost count of the number of times she’d woken up to your screams over the years. Even when she was little, Violet would crawl into your bed and hug you close for a while. She would cradle your head and wake you up slowly, gently reminding you that you were okay. That _she_ was okay.

This was how she had put together most of your past.

“You know what? I sometimes think I should remember the night Grandpa died. Like I was there.”

“You were there, but you were too small. Don’t try to remember. It was a horrible night.” How you had managed to escape the demons chasing you that night was still a miraculous question. Somehow you’d managed to trick and lose them. The finality in your voice made her change the subject.

“At least, you got a couple hours sleep,” she said. "But now you’re getting late.”

“For what?” You scratched your head, glad that your breathing was fine now. “Did we plan a movie or something?”

“No, mom!” She sighed in exasperation. “The blind date. Remember?”

“Oh!” You’d woken up so disoriented that you had absolutely forgotten the reason you were home this early, let alone in bed.

Vi had insisted that you leave from work early. The two of you had packed your stuff right after lunch and ducked home by 3. The afternoon was spent with the two of you working on the living room floor, while reruns of America’s next top model played in the background. You emailed all of your dealers the finals quotations for the wedding deliveries and Vi, who was sitting with her back resting against yours, finished solving sample exam papers.

You wondered sometimes why she even bothered. She had finished two papers in time for one, all the while cheering for the contestant you had supported last season. Spoiler alert: she didn’t win. But it didn’t stop the two of you from hollering at the ones you didn’t like.

Eventually you had huddled on the sofa watching _“The Exorcist”_ for what felt like the hundredth time. When she was small, Vi used to be awed at your ability to watch the movie without even batting an eye, while she crawled in your lap and hid her face in your hair.

Tonight, however, you had been the one sprawled on the sofa with your head resting in her lap, while she carded her fingers softly through your hair. Occasionally, she would a quote a line or two in your ear and you would giggle at her corny impression of the ghost voice.

It had felt nice, comforting even, the feel of her nails against your scalp, and before you knew it, you had fallen asleep. You hadn’t even realized when the darkness of the room in the movie had turned into the darkness of one of the worst nights of your life.

Waking up, you had almost clutched at your chest, expecting your little baby girl there. But she wasn’t little anymore. She was strong and beautiful and she was looking down at you with worried green eyes. Just like her father used to.

“I’m fine, Violet! And I remember about the stupid date.” You swung your legs down, stretching out your arms. The deal was still in place. If you went out tonight, Vi would ease up on the studying.

“Hey, it’s not stupid!”

“Whatever, kiddo.” You got up, heading towards the bathroom, with every intention of turning up to the “date” in a flannel and jeans. Etiquette be damned.

“Hey, wait!” She ran up behind you.

“Now what?” You demanded. “Make it quick, I really wanna pee.”

“I put out a dress for you on the bed.”

“Put out a dress?” You were sure your eyes were bulging out of your sockets. “I’m not wearing a dress!”

“Yes, you are.” She caught you by your shoulders from behind and pushed you into your room, right up till the bed. “Wear this.” She held out a black, body hugging number with a deep neckline that flared down the hip.

“Are you crazy? I brought that one for you!" 

"You knew I would never wear it,” she countered.

“Doesn’t mean _I_ have to wear it.” It was true. In a fit of excitement last month, you had bought the stunning dress for Violet, when the two of you had been out shopping. You’d insisted that she only try it on, but it had suited her so well, that you’d billed it in, even if it was a little heavy on the wallet. She looked beautiful wearing it.

“You have to. I threw all your flannels in the laundry. You really don’t have an option,” she smirked, and your mouth fell open.

“Now, listen up, young lady-” you started, but she cut you in the middle.

“Didn’t you have to pee?” She stuck her tongue out and ran out of the room.

“If it turns out to be neighbor Dave, I swear to God, I’ll kick your ass when I get back,” you yelled at her, before shaking your head at her antics and slipping into the bathroom.

It was half past 7 by the time you were finally dressed and ready. One look at the mirror told you that you didn’t look bad. The dress was shorter than expected. It had seemed longer on Vi, but she was a couple inches shorter than you.

It didn’t help that you had no idea how to carry a dress like that. You were more of the pants and shirt person, and the occasional dresses you wore to work were all comfortable sun dresses.

Vi had set out a pair of pearl earrings on the dresser and high heeled pumps at the foot. Where had she managed to get those? Tentatively, you climbed into them and put the earrings on.

Turning back to the mirror you noticed that your legs seemed longer, body more graceful. You twisted your torso a little to examine how feminine you looked. Somehow the Y/H/C hair falling in soft curls down your back managed to frame your face perfectly. You looked nice.

Looking into the mirror came with a painful pang in your stomach. It always did because it reminded you of Dean. The thought that you looked pretty was always immediately followed by the thought- _‘what was the point if Dean wasn’t going to see it.’_

Over the years, you’d become so used to running away from this very thought, that you rarely stopped to look in the mirror anymore. However, tonight you welcomed that thought. You closed your eyes and imagined Dean’s reaction at seeing you like this. You imagined his beautiful green eyes widening, the grin on his face at seeing you and then the imminent blush after his eyes roved all over your body. Your lips stretched into a smile remembering his boyish grin. You suddenly felt eighteen again.

“Holy shit!”

Your daughter’s exclamation made you turn your around. She was ogling at you open mouthed. “Mom! You look gorgeous.”

You curtsied. “Why, thank you.”

“No, I’m serious,” she walked towards you. “You look stunning.”

“It would make more sense if I knew who I was looking like this for,” you pushed at her, one last time.

“Nope,” she shook her head. “Trust me, he’s amazing.”

What was with her? Who was this guy?

You looked back at the mirror again. Longingly, trying to conjure up the image of Dean once more. But deep inside you knew the truth. Even if that Dean existed, he wouldn’t look at you with adoration, he would look at you with dislike, with disgust. The expression on your face became pained in the reflection. You quickly straightened it into a smile before Vi could catch you.

“C'mon, it’s getting late.” She was bouncing on the balls of her feet.

You were right to have agreed to go this date, you thought as you followed her out of the room. If it made Vi so happy, how could it be a bad idea?

At the door she tugged at your arm. You saw her stern expression. "No staying past 10:30, young lady, or I’ll ground your naughty ass.”

You giggled. “Got it, mom!” you winked at her, before walking up to your car. She waved as you drove past the house.

“Have fun,” Violet called out after you.

How bad could it possibly be?

*****

The restaurant was bustling tonight. Which was weird, given it was a working night. You started scanning the tables for single guys, before remembering about the white rose. The polished mahogany tables closest to you were all occupied by couples. There had to be someone sitting alone. You walked around a little, looking for a white rose on the table.

A brown haired man sitting at the bar, but he didn’t have a flower.

There was no one else. Just when you were starting to wonder whether you were actually the first to reach, and that you should go find a table, you saw him.

The man was standing two rows to the left, directly across from you, angled, with his head turned towards the entrance, and away from you. He was dressed simply- a crimson shirt pulled over a black t-shirt peeking from beneath it and blue jeans. From where you stood, you couldn’t help but admire the thick thighs, the broad shoulders and arms that stretched against the fabric of his shirt. Even without actually looking at his face, you could tell that if the date sucked, he was at least an eye-candy.

But something about the way he stood, told you it might not be so bad after all. He was shifting from one foot to another, slowly turning away from you. The guy clutched the white rose like a freaking weapon. His body language screamed ‘awkward.’ You had to giggle at that. Apparently, just like you, he’d never done the blind date thing before.

You walked along the aisle until you reached the end of the row he was standing in, finally seeing all of him. Unobstructed by the intermittent tables and people, you could see his bow legs. Unhindered by the lanterns hanging from the ceiling, you could see the dirty blonde hair. You could see his tense shoulders and the way he was scratching at the short hair at the back of his neck nervously.

It felt like your heart stopped for a second, and then took off at a sprint, hammering against your ribs painfully. Yet, your legs wouldn’t stop moving, propelling you forward with every passing second. You couldn’t stop walking. The closer you got, the more you saw. The angle of his jaw, the shape of his chin, the freckles on the back of his neck. It was all there, but you refused to accept it. How could you? You’d seen him die right before your eyes. This couldn’t be.

You tilted your head to the side trying to get a better look. Just then, he turned. For second, his searching eyes saw right past you, before focusing on you. It took a fraction of a second for him to understand, and once he did, they went wide with shock.

It was him. It was Dean.

You didn’t know what your face gave away, because you didn’t know what you were feeling. Surprise? Shock? Happiness? Fear?

No. It simply felt unreal. This was all a dream. Your mind replayed the events of the evening. Maybe Vi never woke you up, maybe you were still dreaming. This was all unreal, it was just in your imagination. This had to be the cruelest, most torturous dream your mind had ever conjured up. It brought tears to your eyes.

Yet, you didn’t want this to end. You wanted to stay here forever and look into Dean’s eyes, memorize everything about that divine face.

He was older now. Mature and rugged. There were crinkles around his eyes. Did he smile a lot? As your eyes roamed hungrily over his face, you noticed that there were also worry lines on his forehead. He seemed to have aged stunning well. Handsome and irresistible.

Dean looked like he’d been through a lot. But those eyes were still the same. Warm and caring even in their surprise.

You reached out a shaking hand to touch him, expecting to wake up before your hand hit solid flesh. Your fingers were trembling with trepidation. You wanted to touch him as soon as you could, but you also wanted to draw the moment for as long as possible. Because once you touched him, the magic would be over. You would wake up, and Dean would be gone. _Again._

Three things happened at the same time-

His eyes followed the arc of your hand.

Your fingers touched the soft fabric of his shirt.

A single tear overflowed and rolled down your cheek, falling onto your chest.

_Oh god, he was real._

From years and years of waking up from nightmares, you knew one thing. One could never truly cry in their dreams. You could yell, scream, sob, but you could never truly cry, because there would be no tears. The tears always came afterwards, once you woke up. After you realized that it had all been a dream, a horrible, horrible dream. That was when the tears would appear. They would well up underneath your closed eyelids and you would squeeze your eyes tighter.

It’s not possible to produce tears when one was asleep. But you were crying now, honest to god tears. Which could only mean one thing.

This was real. Dean was real.

Meanwhile, Dean was still staring at your hand. You watched as he slowly lifted his head to look back at you. “Y/N,” he whispered, his throat tight.

“But you were dead.” It was all you could say back. There was relief, but your mind went into its usual defense mechanism, the one it always fell back on in times emotional upheaval- lock down and analyze.

Dean knew Violet.

Somehow he had met her, and she had set you up with him. Then it all clicked, too fast. The FBI agent. All the time that you’d spent worrying about how Vi had met Sam, you’d never realized that she’d actually met Dean. Now it was painfully obvious. Sam wouldn’t have busted her out like that, Dean would have. But she knew Dean better that than. They had met more than once. Vi was friends with him.

“Yeah,” Dean cleared his throat, still looking at you like he was witnessing a miracle. But your soul hadn’t been dragged to hell by hellhounds. His had been. Did that mean he was a demon?

You quickly withdrew your hand and flinched back. But he strode forward.

“I’m not a demon, Y/N, I swear,” he said, reading your mind like an open book. “I got topside soon enough.”

"Sam?” You asked. The sly bastard had done it, he’d managed to get his brother back somehow, and it made you wanna smile for the first time, the fear starting to ebb away.

“No, not Sam. It’s a long story, but he tried, Y/N. He tried to get me back.” He carefully took another step close to you, close enough for you to be able to smell him. Mint and pinewood mixed with his heady, intoxicating scent, not leather, but it was still him, still _your_ Dean. The realization came with hit in your gut, and your knees buckled underneath you, hitting the floor.

“Y/N!” Dean was on his knees in an instant, hands reaching out to hold you by your shoulders.

The moment the calloused tips of his fingers brushed your skin, tears started to fall, hot and heavy till you couldn’t see a thing. It didn’t matter that you were in a restaurant and were probably putting on a show, it didn’t matter that it had been over sixteen years since this man had last laid fingers on you. Nothing mattered, except one thing. He was alive and he was here. Right in front of you.

“Oh, Dean,” you sobbed, remembering the lifetime worth of pain. All the years that you had spent protecting and hiding Violet because of who she was; it all seemed worth it now. You had done it. You had protected her, and now she would have her dad, too. It felt like your heart was growing double its size.

You placed your hand on the slight stubble dusting his cheek. He closed his eyes at your touch, just like he always used to. Nothing had changed.

The guilt however was eating at you. You had kept Violet from him for so long. He was there, he’d come back, and Vi still thought that her father was dead. But if he had come back…

“Why didn’t you find me, Dean?” You asked, brushing the tears away with the back of your hand. “If you came back soon enough, why didn’t you find me?”

The answer was written right across his face. It was right there in his apologetic eyes. He’d never found you because he had never wanted to. He had never come looking for you.

Fresh tears made their way, but you found your bearing. Steeling your heart, you pushed yourself off the ground, refusing to hold the hand Dean offered. The feeling of rejection was so painful, it felt like a stab in your chest.

“It’s not like that, Y/N,” He looked at you with pleading eyes.

“Then what is it?” You asked, the heartbreak in your voice making it difficult to talk. “The truth is you never forgave me, isn’t it? Even after all these years. The truth is, you never wanted me around.”

“No, Y/N/N-” he started, but you cut him off.

“You promised, Dean, you promised you’d find me,” your voice broke on the last word. It was true. There was a reason you’d kept Murphy as your last name. Sam would have never guessed it, but Dean wouldn’t even had to try. He would’ve known. The truth was he had never tried. He had given up on you.

“Listen to me. Please,” he urged, his green eyes burdened with pain. But you couldn’t do it now, not today. The pain in your chest, the obvious rejection was too much deal. So you turned on your heel and ran out the way you had come.

You would have to go back eventually. Now that you knew he was alive, now that there was no reason to hide Violet from the world, you couldn’t keep him from his daughter, and most of all you couldn’t keep Violet from her father. Your daughter deserved to know her dad, even if he had no interest in her mother. The thought was like a twisted knife in your gut.

Dean obviously didn’t know Violet was his daughter. After seeing you, he may or may not figure it out, but you just couldn’t deal with this today. You ran to your car, and slammed the door just as Dean stepped out of the restaurant.

“Y/N!” His anguished cry followed after you, but you slammed your foot on the pedal anyway, driving past him.

You glared straight ahead, as you drove off. Why? Why had this happened to you? You were happy living your life with the memory of a Dean Winchester who wanted you, why had he come back now to reject you all over again? To wreck you all over again? 

*****

By the time the car came to a halt in front of your house, all the tears had ebbed away, so had most of the emotions. The only emotion you felt now was numbness, and a dull, deep set fear. Fear of what? You kept asking yourself, but you couldn’t name it. You couldn’t pin point. However, the fear was so profound, it threatened to engulf every other feeling, getting stronger by the minute.

You left the car in the driveway and stepped out. It was becoming difficult to walk in those high heels, but the pain barely registered as you walked up to the front door. Before you could knock, the door opened, and Violet stepped out.

“Mom?” She asked, her sleepy face becoming more alarmed with every passing second. “What happened?”

You didn’t say anything. What could you possibly say? Where would you even start?

“Mom?” She shook you lightly by your shoulders. “Say something! Did he hurt you? Did Dean hurt you?”

Had he hurt you? No, not in the way Vi meant. You shook your head.

“So what happened?” She was starting to panic. “Mom, you’re scaring me. Why do you look like you’ve been crying? Say something.”

“Nothing happened,” you mumbled, pushing her aside, and stepping inside the house. You didn’t want to talk to anyone at that moment, not even Violet. All you wanted to do was go to sleep and stop the violent storm of thoughts in your head. If only you could not be in your head tonight.

“Mom,” Vi called after you. “Stop. Tell me what happened!”

You turned towards her. “Nothing happened. I didn’t want to stay there, so I came back.”

“What about Dean?”

“What about him?” You asked, that flash fear making an appearance again.

“You just left him out there?” She looked incredulously.

“Listen, I don’t want to talk about it tonight. Can I just go to my room and sleep?” Your voice sounded weak and weary.

“No,” she said, and there was a steely glint in her eyes, not unlike your own.

“Excuse me?" 

"I said, no, mom,” she stated firmly. “Dean’s a friend and you can’t do this to him. You can’t do this to yourself. I get it that you loved dad, but you can’t continue living like this, afraid of love all your life. You think this is what dad would’ve wanted for you?”

A coil inside you snapped

“I don’t know what your dad would’ve wanted,” you yelled, the strings holding you together, finally splintering. “He couldn’t care less about me.”

“You’re wrong. He would’ve wanted what’s best for you. He loved you just like he loved me!” she insisted, tears springing in her eyes at the harshness in your voice.

“Love me?” You scoffed. “Love you? He didn’t even know you existed.”

The moment those words slipped out of your mouth, you gasped. Something broke in Violet’s eyes. She took a step back.

“No, you’re lying. Dad knew I was born, right? You told me he _loved_ me.”

The regret you felt in that moment was stronger than any other emotion you had felt tonight, except the pain at seeing your child so heartbroken.

“I- He died before I could tell him. I _had_ to keep it from him, Violet.”

“Why would you do this to me?” She whispered clutching her heart. “Why would you lie?”

“I’m sorry,” you cried. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.” You tried to hold her hand, but she flinched back, staring at you with such distrust, that it staggered you.

“You lied to me,” she accused, her voice ice cold. “All my life, you lied to me.”

You reached out again, and gripped her hand tightly, clutching her bracelet, but Violet wrenched her hand from your grip. So hard that the bracelet broke off, charms all ricocheting off the walls, leaving a blood trail where it had cut into her wrist and your fingers.

“No,” she yelled, tears streaming down her face, her nose blotchy and red from the anger. “Don’t touch me.”

“Violet, listen-” you started towards her, but she picked her hoodie off the couch and ran towards the door.

“No, stop right there. I don’t want to see you,” she cried, before shutting the door behind her.

_I don’t want to see you._

_I don’t want to see you._

The words rang in your head long after the door frame stopped reverberating.

**Author's Note:**

> Please please please tell me what you think! I live for feedback <3


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